Chapter no.37 Weed, Chaos, and Church Property Damage

[ Name: Naruto Uzumaki ]

[ Level: 26 → 31 ]

[ INT: 14 → 18 ]

Strangely, there was no euphoric buzz this time. No sudden rush of clarity, no bright spark of insight that usually accompanied a level-up in Intelligence. Naruto had grown used to that clarity, but this time it was different.

Instead, there was something else. Not insight, but control. Like he had seized the reins of his own mind just a bit tighter. His thoughts didn't race; they flowed—more measured, deliberate, and powerful.

Huh, Naruto muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. So, too much of a good thing, and the brain forgets how to party, huh?

He sat down cross-legged at the cliffside, watching the ruins around him in silence. Normally, he'd flicker out of Lordran the moment a boss was done, but this time… he waited. He had never seen it happen in real time before—the reset.

And now?He wanted to watch.

It started subtly. A sigh of wind that carried no leaves.

Then the stones began to rise.

They didn't rebuild—rather, they unbroke. As though the battle had never happened. Rubble from the abyss below floated upward, trembling like insects on water before locking back into place. Cracks closed as if reality itself was stitching the fabric back together.

Moss recoiled. Dust vanished in reverse.

Naruto's hand curled slightly on his knee.

He knew this was how Lordran worked. He understood it now—memory tied to space, causality bent backward by the convoluted time. But seeing it? Watching the world reject history, overwrite pain as if it never mattered?

That was different.

And for a moment, just a second, Naruto asked himself: If the world can just undo pain… does it matter that I fought at all?

The final stone clicked into place.

But then he saw it.

The Moonlight Butterfly was gone.

Everything had been reset. The moss, the guards, the garden. But not the boss. Not the creature. Its soul was still in his inventory. The world, it seemed, remembered what mattered.

Great, Naruto thought as he rose to his feet, brushing moss from his pants.

With a flick of his fingers and a puff of smoke, he summoned a handful of shadow clones, each vanishing into the deeper parts of the grove with silent purpose. The path was clear now with no more Moonlight Butterfly to block his progress—just a quiet, efficient soul farming ground. Five thousand souls with each reset. All it cost was a bit of time and patience.

He'd take that trade. Every soul brought him one step closer to the strength he needed for whatever Gato might have left to throw his way.

That left Naruto to his next objective, as beyond the moss-covered dirt wall, a thick, unmoving fog lay draped over the earth like a curse—dense and unnatural. The side of the Darkroot Garden sealed by magic.

Naruto sent a clone to check it out while he himself went towards the path leading toward the lower Darkroot Garden he'd seen from the divine blacksmith's tower.

The shadow clone sprinted down the narrow dirt path, its footsteps soft against the moss-lined ground. The only light came from a single glowing flower nestled in a bed of ivy, casting a faint golden glow on the way ahead.

At the very end of the path, something hunched at the base of a gnarled tree. A corpse, its skeletal form partially fused with the roots, sat slumped against the bark. Its bony fingers clutched a long, weathered polearm.

The weapon shimmered faintly beneath the flower's light. It was a spear, tall and lean, with wickedly jagged protrusions along the shaft. The metal was dulled with age, but something about it still radiated threat.

The clone narrowed his eyes. That's a trap, he murmured.

Lordran had taught him that much, at least. If something looked convenient, it usually meant something was about to try and kill you. He shifted slightly, stepping to the side just enough to catch the subtle distortion of light.

Clinging to the tree was a creature, nearly invisible until you were looking right at it. A two-headed reptilian beast, camouflaged so expertly it might as well have been part of the bark.

Then from behind, something moved.

Roots cracked and leaves rustled as an ent barreled through the underbrush with unnatural speed. The clone jumped into the air, twisting midair as he flicked out three kunai. Two struck true, embedding into the skulls of the twin-headed beast. The creature let out a dying hiss before collapsing in a heap at the base of the tree.

The third kunai sailed past the ent—close enough to graze the bark beside its head.

It stopped its charge.

Naruto landed lightly, dust kicking up around his sandals. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the crossbow from his inventory. Wind chakra surged into the arrowhead, shaping the air into a razor-thin blade.

The ent lunged, vines snapping forward like whips.

The clone rolled to the side, evading the attack by inches. In one smooth motion, he leveled the crossbow and fired. The bolt pierced clean through the ent's skull. It teetered once, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. As the souls surged into him, warming his chest with their eerie weight, the clone stepped forward and reached for the polearm. His fingers curled around the shaft. It was heavier than expected, and perfectly balanced. He spun it once to test the grip, then stored it in his inventory.

He turned toward the towering tree at the path's end. Molding chakra to his feet, he scaled the bark with practiced ease. At the top, he leapt onto a nearby ledge of packed earth.

That was when he saw it.

The forest before him ended in a vast, roiling haze. Not mist. Not smoke. Fog. Dense and unnatural. It didn't roll gently like ocean breeze or cling like early morning dew. It hovered there, motionless. Silent. Still. As if time itself had been caught in its grasp.

The clone froze.

His heartbeat thundered against his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back. But he was a shadow clone. Disposable. Created to take risks. If there was danger, then his purpose was to meet it first. He exhaled, slow and steady, and jumped forward.

The fog took him.

At first, it was like walking through dense wool. But then the air curdled around him, heavy and moist. His breath turned sour. His skin felt wrong, like it wasn't made to exist in this place. Time staggered. Direction lost all meaning. Each step fell into nowhere, every motion met with resistance like walking through syrup spun from madness. The clone couldn't tell whether he was moving forward or falling inward. Then pain bloomed as an arrow struck him out of nowhere. Just sudden, icy agony in his chest as he stumbled forward. But he didn't vanish. The jutsu didn't end.

He didn't dispel.

The clone collapsed to his knees, confusion swirling alongside panic. That shouldn't have been possible. He was a shadow, a sliver of the original's will. Death should have unmade him. But the fog held him in place.

For stagnation rejected change.

With trembling fingers, the clone reached into his pouch and pulled free a single tag. He pressed it against his chest and channeled his chakra.

A heartbeat later, flame exploded.

The forest lit in orange for an instant before vanishing again beneath the gray.

It was not to destroy the enemy.

It was a message.

Don't follow.

The original Naruto stood in the quieter corner of Darkroot Garden, where light barely pierced the thick canopy above. Mist hovered low, clinging to the moss-covered earth like reluctant memories. Before him loomed a towering green tree, its surface bark-like yet subtly breathing. Faint pulses rippled beneath its surface, as if the roots were alive and reacting to his presence.

"That's not normal," Naruto muttered, narrowing his eyes.

He stepped forward, pressed his palm to the strange tree, and felt a subtle tremor run up his arm—soft, spongy, warm like flesh pretending to be wood. His brow twitched. That wasn't bark. That was skin.

"Yup. Gross," he whispered, and without hesitation, he pulled back his arm and drove a punch into the tree's side. The outer shell cracked like ceramic. The bark flaked away to reveal red-tinged muscle fibers throbbing in the open air. Steam rose from the broken surface. Beneath the illusion of wood, it had always been meat.

Naruto grimaced. "Yeah, that's definitely not how trees are supposed to look."

He placed his hand on the exposed flesh, channeling a sharp wave of wind chakra. The pulse of compressed air carved clean through the trunk, splitting it like a cleaved ribcage. The "tree" shrieked—not in sound, but in the rippling movement escaping from its dying roots. It slumped in on itself, dissolving into the earth as a narrow path behind it slowly revealed itself. Souls rose like fireflies from its corpse and vanished into Naruto's chest.

He took a cautious step forward, his senses tense.

Then the explosion echoed.

A distant boom shattered the unnatural stillness. Naruto paused, eyes flicking in the direction of the fog-covered path his clone had been exploring. He waited, anticipating the usual rush of memories returning. Images. Emotions. Sounds.

Nothing came.

No feedback. No information. No clone.

His lips tightened. "That's not good."

He didn't speak aloud again as he turned back toward the newly opened path. He kept the worry at bay, stuffed it down beneath instinct and discipline. The unknown waited ahead, but he marked the fog with silent caution. That place was off-limits for now.

As he rounded the next bend, he froze.

"Is that... a frog?"

It was an odd thing to find in a place like this.

The creature was sprawled across the forest floor like a melted pancake. Its body was wide and slick, shaped almost like a manta ray, the flesh painted in vivid blotches of red and black. Yellow, bulbous eyes tracked Naruto's movement with disturbing clarity, and from its slack mouth hung a long, flat tongue—wet, glistening, and twitching.

Nestled beside its body was a single green weed shaped like a twisted flower, blooming from the loam like an offering.

The frog snapped suddenly, its tongue cracking through the air like a whip. It passed through Naruto's flickering afterimage, only for the real boy to drop from above like a meteor. His heel came down in an axe kick that smashed the soft creature's body into the ground. The impact burst through the beast like a ruptured bladder. A wet explosion of tissue, slime, and fragmented bone sprayed into the nearby foliage.

The creature twitched once, then stilled.

[You have obtained:][80 Souls][Green Blossom.]

Naruto turned the strange plant between his fingers. It smelled sharp, almost peppery, with a bitter edge that made his nose twitch.

[Item: Green Blossom][Description: Green weed, shaped like a flower. Temporary boost to stamina recovery speed. This uniquely bitter, biting herb is sometimes harvested in large quantities, but normally it is an annual plant found near water.]

Naruto shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

He bit into the herb.

The moment it hit his tongue, his world shifted.

The forest fell away into a tunnel of soundless motion. His breath felt deeper, lighter. His blood raced like a thousand leaves in a storm. His chakra coils tightened, then unfurled, swelling with motion. For a second, the world moved in slow motion, but he did not. His heart beat faster, sharper. Every thread of chakra in his body danced. Where once his flow was like a gentle river, it now surged like a flooded canyon.

His vision cleared.

He felt... infinite.

"Damn," he whispered with a grin. "That's a game-changer."

Even with his ridiculous chakra reserves, the sensation of rapid recovery was unmistakable. And for someone like Sasuke, or even Kakashi—who had immense skill but limited chakra—this could make them unstoppable. Naruto grinned as he stored the remaining blossoms.

"Definitely gonna need to find more of this weed," Naruto muttered under his breath, already sprinting down the narrow moss-lined path. The lingering taste of the Green Blossom still tingled on his tongue, and his chakra coils buzzed with a barely contained excitement. That herbal kick had been wild. He didn't know whether to call it a power-up or a high-five from nature itself.

The sound of water reached his ears—faint at first, then growing clearer, like laughter echoing from a distant stream. That had to be it. More moisture meant more plants. More plants meant more weed.

As he rounded a curve, a massive tree blocked his path. Its bark twisted unnaturally, pulsing as if it were breathing. From the subtle undulation of its roots and the sickly sheen of its trunk, Naruto recognized the signs instantly.

Another flesh tree.

He stopped short and stared up at it. "I mean... you're not attacking me," Naruto said aloud, tilting his head. "And I'm not exactly on a deforestation mission."

The tree didn't react.

"Right. You just chill then," he said, giving the root a little pat as he leapt into the air, flipping over the weird creature.

He landed softly on the other side, and his jaw dropped.

A small grove stretched out before him, peaceful and untouched by rot. Beyond the gentle slope, a wide lake shimmered beneath soft moonlight. The surface sparkled with tiny waves, disturbed only by the ripple of distant water creatures. And along the edges, tucked between rocks and curling tree roots, were bunches of radiant green blossoms.

"Oh-ho-ho! Jackpot," Naruto whispered, eyes gleaming. "Man, if Iruka-sensei could see me now—harvesting premium leaf. Hehehe."

He bolted forward, arms pumping, only to come to a skidding halt as he spotted a Stone Knight lying near the bank. Water splashed violently as shapes emerged behind it. Dozens of frog-rays flopped up from the lake's depths, landing on the shoreline with wide eyes and twitching tongues as the knight rose.

Naruto sighed and pulled the drake sword from his back in one smooth motion.

A crackling blue shockwave screamed forward, carving through the air. It hit the Stone Knight mid-rise, shattering the creature into splinters that flew backward and tumbled into the lake like discarded furniture.

Naruto turned to the frog-rays, chakra flaring as he declared with a wide grin, "Back off, froggies! This stash is mine—I'm the one getting high... stamina today!"

His killer intent rippled through the clearing like a silent scream. The frog-ray things twitched. One of them blinked in panic. Then, all at once, they flipped back into the lake, splashing into the darkness with great urgency. A few even left behind trails of bubbles as they disappeared beneath the surface.

Naruto blinked, genuinely disappointed. "Aw man, no fight? That would've made the weed hit different as a victory prize."

He crouched beside one of the blossoms and began gathering the green weeds carefully into a pouch.

"Man... if I could grow this stuff back home, I'd never run out of chakra again," he muttered, eyes gleaming with innocent wonder. "I could stash a whole patch behind the academy. Just call it... Naruto's weed. Yeah, that sounds classy."

He chuckled to himself and, as he turned to leave, he noticed the shimmer of a knight's soul resting beside a fallen corpse—its armor moss-covered, half-sunken into the muddy shore. Naruto picked up the soul drop, eyes narrowing slightly.

A lot of knights died in this garden, huh?

He stood and looked across the wide stretch of water, toward where the stream curved out of the garden and disappeared into the forest below. He followed the flow with his eyes, realizing it might lead down to the basin with the Hydra. Strange how this entire world felt stitched together like a looping dream—one path always feeding into the next.

As he turned, something caught his attention: a crumbling archway built into the cliffside. The structure was half-devoured by earth, blue clay bricks jutting out at awkward angles. He stepped carefully up the half-submerged stairwell, fingers brushing against the strange clay.

Lordran never stopped offering questions. It just refused to give answers.

At the top of the stairs, a familiar form began to rise. A stone knight stood tall, its blade dragging across the stone as it shook off the stillness of ages. Naruto didn't draw his sword. Instead, he adjusted his stance and let chakra flood into his muscles. This time, he wanted to test something.

With pinpoint control, he funneled power into his fist and stepped in, slamming a one-inch punch directly into the knight's chest. The force cracked stone, forming a neat hole through the armor before the knight crumbled in on itself, falling apart like shattered pottery.

Naruto stood over the remains, flexing his hand. "Heh. Guess Kakashi-sensei was right—sometimes, it's all about precision."

He stepped past the wreckage, weaving through the narrow path that led upward. The air thinned slightly as he reached the edge of a vast cliff, overlooking the gorge that once held the Moonlight Butterfly.

"Guess I've pretty much explored all there is to see in the Darkroot Garden."

His eyes caught a faint glint in the moonlight, barely noticeable between the twisted roots and moss-covered stones. Curiosity piqued, Naruto stepped closer and knelt, brushing aside a layer of leaves and crumbling dirt.

A silver ring, its band engraved with the unmistakable symbol of a howling wolf. It pulsed faintly with latent energy, a quiet, sleeping power. Naruto held it up against the moonlight, letting the silver catch the glow. The metal was cool against his skin, but there was a sense of presence to it, like it remembered the hand of its former owner.

"A magic ring, huh?" he whispered, eyes already scanning its description as he activated the system interface.

[Item: Wolf Ring]

[Description: One of the special rings granted to the Four Knights of Gwyn. The Wolf Ring belongs to Artorias the Abysswalker. Artorias had an unbendable will of steel, and was unmatched with a greatsword.]

[Effect: Increases Poise by 40.]

Naruto raised an eyebrow. His first thought was immediate and practical: no wonder he kept finding knight corpses scattered around the garden. Maybe they were after Artorias's ring.

His second thought was more personal.

"Artorias, huh? Uses a greatsword too... sounds like my kinda guy."

But then came the third thought, a bit slower and far more frustrating.

"What the hell is poise?"

Naruto frowned and scratched his cheek. He slipped the ring onto his finger anyway, already wearing the Blue Tearstone Ring and the Iron Rusted Ring.

[Warning: The effect of a magic ring uses the body as a medium to project its effect onto the soul. Multiple effects cannot be channeled through one body simultaneously. Remove one ring.]

Naruto frowned slightly at the fact that two rings at once was the limit. No matter how many incredible relics he came across, the world itself just didn't allow more. But that didn't mean he didn't have a loophole.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

It wasn't really about wearing the ring, was it? It was about connection. About resonance.

When he sent a shadow clone out with a ring he wasn't wearing himself, he still felt the effect. Not directly, like a glove on his hand, but deeper—woven into the hum of his chakra, as though the clone was tethered to his soul and feeding the magic back through the link.

It wasn't chakra alone that did it. It was what the clone was: a fragment of himself with just enough will, just enough life, to serve as a vessel. The ring didn't care that it wasn't on his hand. It just needed to be on a hand that was him.

"Shadow clones might just be the most broken jutsu in existence."

He decided to swap out the Iron Rusted Ring for now, replacing it with the Wolf Ring. The moment it slid onto his finger, he felt a change. Not a physical weight but a pressure across his limbs, like invisible armor layering itself over his skin. It didn't slow him. If anything, it gave him the sensation that no matter what hit him, he could keep moving forward. Even if the term poise was still fuzzy in his mind, he understood the feeling in his bones.

Naruto took one last look across the forest, satisfied.

"Alright. Time to head back to Andre and drop off this divine ember. Once the garden resets, I'll swing back around to farm souls... and grab more of that weird weed."

He bent his knees and launched himself across the gap, cloak trailing behind him like shadow and smoke. The Wolf Ring pulsed once on his hand, steady and resolute, as he vanished into the forest's edge.

The forge was quiet when Naruto arrived, the rhythmic clink of steel echoing faintly off the old stone walls like a lullaby for blades. Andre sat on his stool, hunched over a battered chestplate, hammer in hand. He didn't even look up as Naruto stepped into the light, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Well now, you're back again," the old blacksmith rumbled. "I heard quite the ruckus from the forest. Explosions, shockwaves... the lot of it. What in the gods' name were you doing out there, boy?"

Naruto grinned like a fox who'd just gotten away with robbing a henhouse. "Oh man, Andre, where do I even start? So I was walking through the woods, right? And then this giant butterfly starts lasering me from the sky with these magic beams."

Andre arched a brow and leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Aye. That'd be the Moonlight Butterfly. Majestic creature. Dangerous one, too. Few have lived to speak of it."

"Well, I didn't live. At least not the first time," Naruto said proudly. "Died once. Got better. Then I teamed up with this super cool witch named Beatrice. She had this huge hat, talked like a ghost from a storybook, and shot magic that could curve like a boomerang. We tag-teamed the butterfly!"

"Mmm. So it's gone then."

"Dust in the wind," Naruto said with a snap of his fingers. "Oh, and I found weed. Like good weed. Green Blossoms. Tastes like spicy cabbage and makes your stamina shoot through the roof."

Andre blinked slowly. "You found the stamina herb."

Naruto nodded sagely. "I'm calling it Naruto's Weed."

Andre let out a long, gravelly sigh and muttered, "Gods help us all…"

"But hey... look what I brought back."

With a dramatic flourish, Naruto pulled out a bundle wrapped in old cloth and placed it gently on the anvil. The cloth unraveled to reveal the glowing, holy flame of the Divine Ember.

Andre straightened. His face, so often cracked into smirks and half-laughed grunts, now shifted to something far more solemn. He looked down at the ember with a reverence reserved for relics, for old friends long buried.

Naruto puffed out his chest. "Pretty cool, huh?"

But Andre didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes and placed a hand over the ember. "To the one who forged in solitude… who tempered light into steel and never asked for thanks… I swear it. Your flame lives on through me. I'll use it well, my brother."

Naruto bowed his head respectfully, mirroring Andre's silence.

Then the old blacksmith straightened, heavy shoulders rolling with quiet strength. "With this fine ember… aye, you're one step closer to a divine weapon."

Naruto's smile faltered. "Wait! One step? That wasn't it?"

"Hah hah. No, not quite. You've got the ember, lad, but now you need to reinforce a weapon to +5 first. Then, using this ember, we can ascend it into something blessed. Takes a special ore, too."

Naruto stared at him, slack-jawed. "You mean I went through all that for a step?"

"That's the nature of Lordran," Andre said with a shrug. "It offers power… but it don't come cheap."

Naruto groaned. "Of course it doesn't. Why would anything be easy around here?"

"Was it ever?" Andre asked with a knowing grin.

"...No," Naruto admitted with a sigh. "Alright, fine. I've got the soul of that butterfly thing. And… one other. Can you do something with it?"

Andre winced. "Ahh. No can do. That's not my craft. To forge a weapon from a soul, you'll need a blacksmith who served under the nameless smithing god himself. Someone who remembers the old rites. I'm no good with those."

Naruto gave the biggest sigh ever, looking down at his feet. Still gained a lot from this adventure, though.

Suddenly, the sound of metal clinking echoed through the forge as Andre pulled a worn sack from the back of his bench and dropped it onto the anvil. It opened with a dusty thud, revealing a pile of Titanite Shards—dozens of them, gleaming faintly in the firelight.

Naruto blinked. "What's all this?"

"Well, seeing how hard you've worked… and knowing your goals…" Andre said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I may not be able to give you a divine weapon yet, but I reckon a properly reinforced Zweihander will do just fine."

Naruto's eyes lit up. "Wait, really?"

"A knight needs a sharp blade," Andre said simply. "Let's make sure yours won't break when you swing it."

Naruto launched forward, wrapping the old blacksmith in a hug that knocked a puff of air from Andre's lungs. "You're the best, old man!"

Andre grunted, patting his back. "Let me go, boy. I've work to do."

Naruto placed the heavy Zweihander on the anvil with a soft clunk, stepping back as the old blacksmith cracked his knuckles and reached for his hammer.

Andre gave the greatsword a once-over. "Mmm. She's seen plenty of blood, that one. A fine blade, but still has room to grow."

As the first echoing strike rang through the chamber, Naruto leaned casually and watched as sparks danced with every hit, but curiosity soon got the better of him.

"Hey, Andre?" he asked, tilting his head. "How're you gonna use that Divine Ember? I mean… it's just a small ember, right?"

Andre didn't look up, continuing to etch the glowing Titanite into the blade's grooves with practiced ease. "An ember can make a fire," he said simply, voice gravelly and calm.

Naruto scratched the side of his cheek. "Okay, but like… what feeds it? You gonna throw in some wood or coal?"

Andre chuckled softly. "Souls, boy."

Naruto blinked.

...Of course it's souls. He exhaled through his nose and turned away to give the man space, summoning shadow clones in the empty church—each already flickering through one-handed hand seals with fluid, focused precision. They'd continue training, as Naruto was determined to perfect one-handed ninjutsu before returning home.

A few hours had passed.

The forge glowed hot with emberlight, and the constant ring of metal on metal echoed through the ancient stone halls like a heartbeat. The scent of iron and oil clung to the air—punctuated now by something new: a faint, almost peppery-green aroma that wafted toward the forge. Andre paused mid-swing, setting his hammer aside as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a heavy forearm. He glanced across the room, toward a quieter corner near the crumbled archway where, slouched at the edge of the forge's reach, Naruto sat beside a makeshift little brazier he'd assembled from broken bricks and bits of scrap metal.

A small curl of greenish smoke floated from the improvised burner, its plume wafting lazily toward the ceiling.

Naruto sat cross-legged, exhausted, breathing in the slow draw of burning Green Blossom weed. His chakra swirled visibly around him, soft and rich with energy—his usual chaos of wild coils now tamed and rhythmic.

Andre watched him for a moment, his weathered face unreadable. Then: "So. What's your plan forward then?"

Naruto let out a long breath, eyes still half-lidded from exertion, but a smirk curled at the edge of his lips. "Well," he said slowly, stretching an arm behind his back, "for starters… you can teach me that taijutsu you used against the Titanite Demon."

Andre leaned back, chuckling. "Hah! You noticed that, did you?"

"I noticed you dodging lightning," Naruto said, grinning wider now. "You gonna teach me, or do I gotta steal your moves the hard way?"

Andre gave a gravelly laugh, stepping around the anvil and lowering himself onto the bench beside the bellows. "That'd be the Astoran Boxing Arts, lad. Old, refined, meant to crack armor with bare knuckles and break beasts with a stance as solid as steel. Not just fists—willpower." He looked Naruto in the eye. "You still want it?"

Naruto met his gaze evenly. "You know what I'm fighting for. I don't care if it's kicks, swords, or songs—I'll take whatever tools I can get."

"Hmph." Andre nodded, satisfied. "Good answer."

Naruto laughed, but then his tone grew serious. "And… I want to find someone to teach me magic. Real magic."

Andre raised a brow. "But you're a knight."

"Ugh, not this again…"

Andre's shoulders shook with a laugh as he returned to the blade. "Alright, alright. Can't blame a lad for wantin' to do it all." He paused. "Actually… I might know a fella."

Naruto perked up immediately. "Yeah?"

"Aye. Dear friend of mine. Name's Rickert of Vinheim."

"Where is he now?"

"Last I heard," Andre muttered, frowning as he recalled, "he went to have a look around the New Londo Ruins."

"…The what?"

Andre glanced over. "Underground city. Deep beneath Firelink Shrine."

Naruto's jaw dropped. "There's a whole city under Firelink Shrine and no one mentioned this?!"

Andre shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Aye. Ruined, haunted, flooded, cursed. The usual."

Naruto groaned. "So I have to walk all the way back to Firelink Shrine?! That's gonna take forever!"

Andre smirked knowingly. "Not if you use the elevator."

"…Eh?"

"The lift in the old church. Hidden platform near the bonfire room. Brings you right down to Firelink."

Naruto stared at him, stunned.

Andre grinned. "Gotta learn to explore, brat."

Naruto shook his head. "This place is insane. Absolute lunacy. I bet next you'll say there's an ancient mushroom kingdom in Lordran."

Andre's expression didn't change. "…I mean…"

"No. Nope. Don't even finish that sentence."

The two shared a laugh which echoed warmly through the chamber. Andre wiped the final sheen of oil across the newly forged Zweihander, now reinforced to +5. The blade no longer bore the grey steel look it once had. No—now it was beautiful and terrible. A deep, obsidian black, its surface rippling with faint traces of etched lines, like veins.

Naruto reached out, fingers brushing the hilt.

The moment he gripped it—he felt it.

A thrum of raw danger. Like the blade itself was holding its breath, waiting for the chance to strike. His skin tingled. His chakra coiled. Something in the sword recognized him.

Naruto didn't say a word.

Instead, he turned and walked toward the wide chamber where dozens of his shadow clones trained in synchronized sequences, perfecting one-handed hand signs in staggered silence.

With one casual step, he raised the Zweihander in a slow, testing arc.

And then he swung.

The air itself shattered.

The force of the swing was a tidal wave of compressed pressure, part shockwave, part gravity distortion. Wind screamed in its wake, kicking up dust, sparks, and fragments of stone from the floor. The arc of power rippled outward, slamming into his clones like an invisible storm. Half of them exploded instantly, popping like glass bubbles. The rest were thrown dozens of feet, their bodies crashing into walls and scattering like leaves caught in a hurricane.

The stone beneath Naruto's feet groaned. A shallow groove cut clean across the floor, carved effortlessly into the ancient stone—the mark of a blade so heavy, it could rewrite terrain.

Naruto stared at the destruction in awe. "Whoa," he whispered, turning the blade slightly in his hand, watching how the etched runes pulsed faintly, drinking in his chakra.

Behind him, Andre crossed his arms and nodded. "There's a special quality to titanite shards and why we use 'em for reforging. They come from slabs, you see. Slabs forged by the nameless blacksmith deity himself. Each slab was etched with a kind of language—not written words, but magic. A language of force. Of shaping. Of memory."

Naruto turned toward him, still catching his breath. "The sword... felt like it pulled on me when I swung. Like it knew what I wanted."

Andre nodded. "That's the enchantment, lad. The language in titanite binds steel to the soul. Makes the blade stronger the stronger you are. And if you're clever with it... even more."

Naruto flexed his cursed arm. "Shame I can't use both hands to max out the strength. This sword was made to be used with two."

Andre rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he said slowly, "I might have a solution."

Naruto looked up, curious.

"In Astora, some knights lost limbs fightin' beasts that didn't leave much of 'em behind. For the ones who couldn't heal, whether by miracle or medicine, they were given prosthetic limbs."

Naruto's brow furrowed. "That... actually sounds kinda useful. But my cursed arm... it just grows back whenever I heal. I'd have to cut it off every time I wanted to use a prosthetic."

Andre gave a grunt. "Then don't use it all the time. Keep the cursed arm for your normal days. But when you need the real strength of a Zweihander? Strap on the prosthetic. Let the forge lend you the hand fate denied."

Naruto tapped his chin, nodding slowly. "Alright. Let's make one." He paused. "Oh and uh... side note."

Andre raised an eyebrow.

"Could you also make me a smoking pipe?"

The blacksmith blinked. "Why?"

Naruto grinned innocently. "For my weed."

"...Only if you share."

Naruto saluted, serious as a monk. "Half my stash." He held out a hand. "And in return, you teach me basic blacksmithing. Just the essentials—repairs, sharpening, reinforcing. In case I end up stuck somewhere without you."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Andre saw the steel in the boy's eyes, the will in his back, and gave a slow, approving nod.

"...Deal."

Their hands clasped, calloused and scarred.

The forge burned on.

Time had lost all meaning.

Hours or was it days? blurred into one long, glowing stretch of sweat, steel, and smoke. Naruto had spent every waking moment beside Andre, learning the fundamentals of Astoran Boxing, blacksmithing basics, and sketching out the design for his prosthetic arm. When they weren't hammering metal, they were arguing over the weight balance of a pipe. When they weren't arguing, they were sparring. Naruto learning how to drive his weight into a punch, how to tighten his core, how to fight like a knight who couldn't afford to fall.

Now, the forge lay quiet.

The fire still glowed low in the distance, but its roar had dulled to a whisper. Naruto lay sprawled near the bonfire, chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm. Beside him, Andre sat propped against the stone wall, half-empty tankard in hand, his beard flecked with sweat and soot.

"Never thought I'd say this," Andre muttered, tilting the tankard back with a grunt, "but I might be gettin' too old to keep up with a brat like you."

Naruto chuckled, flicking a boneshard into the fire. "You're not that old. Just blacksmith-old."

Andre gave a grunt of amusement. "Aye. That's the worst kind."

They sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the crackle of the bonfire and the whisper of wind over the bridge leading to Sen's Fortress.

Then Naruto reached into his inventory and pulled out the Watchtower Basement Key, the cool metal gleaming faintly in the firelight.

[Item: Watchtower Basement Key][Description: Key to the basement of the watchtower in the Undead Burg. The basement of the watchtower forms a stone cell. There are rumors of a hero turned Hollow who was locked away by a dear friend. For his own good, of course.]

"Where did you get that key?"

Naruto nodded. "Took it from the Divine Blacksmith's workshop. He died while making this."

He turned the key over in his fingers. "Says it opens the basement of the watchtower in Undead Burg. Mentions some hero turned Hollow. Locked away by a friend."

Andre didn't respond right away. He just stared into the flames. "...There's a lotta tales in Lordran like that," the old smith said at last. "Ones where friends become jailers. Sometimes it's mercy. Sometimes it's fear. And sometimes..." He took another sip of ale. "Sometimes it's betrayal."

Naruto's brow furrowed. "You think the blacksmith was trying to free him?"

Andre shrugged. "Could be."

"What if that friend who locked him away is the same person who sent the Butterfly? Or controls the Hydra in the basin?"

Andre tilted his head back, exhaling slow. "Then that friend had a lot to protect. Or a lot to hide."

The silence between them deepened.

Eventually, Andre's tankard tipped slightly, resting against his chest as his breaths slowed. The blacksmith was asleep, the long days of labor finally catching up with him.

Naruto watched the man for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Sleep well, old man," he whispered as he headed out—up the stairwell toward the church, the flames of the bonfire warming his back.

As he reached the top of the walkway, something tugged at his senses.

The sun was shining.

He blinked up, confused. A few minutes ago, it had been night. Moonlight gleaming off moss and fog.

Now?

Clear skies. Warm daylight.

His spine stiffened. He formed a clone and sent it sprinting back toward Darkroot Garden. It vanished over the ridge. Moments later, the feedback hit him. The moon still hung over the garden. Different places. Different times.

"Darkroot Garden… and the church… are in separate time zones?" He exhaled, long and slow, as another truth settled over him—one more subtle consequence of Lordran's convoluted time. With imprisoned heroes, shattered timelines, secrets buried beneath every moss-covered stone… and him going to church.

Naruto gave a short, dry laugh.

Yeah… never a dull moment in this place.

The Undead Church loomed ahead, a monolithic beauty with towering stone walls, their once-pristine surfaces now scarred by age and battle. A great circular window sat near the apex of the structure, its stained glass shattered, leaving only jagged remnants behind. The roof sloped into a sharp triangular peak, its edges lined with weathered stone arches, each one crumbling, yet resilient.

Standing in its shadow, Naruto felt a strange sense of understanding, as if he could grasp the awe and reverence that those who once walked these halls must have felt.

But whatever sanctity this place once held had long since been desecrated.

Three Hollows stood outside the entrance, their tattered remnants of armor barely clinging to their withered forms. One clutched a crossbow, while the other two wielded swords.

Naruto had barely taken a step forward before one of the sword-wielding Hollows charged, its decayed mouth hanging open in a silent war cry. At the same time, the crossbow Hollow fired. Naruto sidestepped, letting the arrow fly straight into the charging Hollow's eye.

With a sickening pop, blood erupted from the wound. But even blinded and gushing, the Hollow staggered only for a moment before raising its sword once more.

They don't stop.

Naruto narrowed his eyes, dodging as the blade came down in a series of wild, jerking slashes. The crossbow Hollow reloaded, raising its weapon for another shot.

Naruto moved toward it, shifting his stance.

Another bolt. The young squire dodged, and the arrow struck the blinded Hollow's other eye, embedding itself to the fletching.

The Hollow froze, its sword still raised. Then, it began swinging blindly, slashing at nothing, its movements erratic, desperate. Naruto sidestepped and watched as the flailing Hollow, completely unaware of its surroundings, cut down the crossbow Hollow behind it.

The moment the second Hollow collapsed, Naruto lashed out with a brutal kick, sending the blinded swordsman toppling off the edge of the walkway.

It fell silently into the Darkroot Garden below, vanishing into the trees.

Naruto turned his head to the last remaining Hollow, which just… stood there. Its hollowed eyes stared at him, dull and unblinking, sword hanging low at its side. "Sorry, man," he muttered. "Can't take any chances."

He closed the distance in a blur, his cloak snapping behind him. The Hollow twitched, suddenly jerking to raise its short sword, but Naruto was already inside its guard.

His left fist snapped out like a piston—one clean jab straight to the chest. The blow landed with a sharp clang, and the Hollow staggered as the dent in its armor caved like tin. The next punch was faster, a brutal uppercut that smashed into its jaw. Bone shattered. Teeth flew. The Hollow's head snapped back violently as its entire body lifted from the ground and crashed into the wall behind it.

Naruto lowered his fists, his breath steady. "Boxing's not exactly elegant," he muttered, shaking the blood off his knuckles, "but damn if it isn't efficient."

He turned and stepped into the church.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the world seemed to hold its breath.

The air felt thick, almost sacred. Dust drifted in sunbeams that filtered down from high, fractured windows. The ceiling soared above him, a marvel of ancient architecture—multi-domed, cracked, but still grand. His footsteps echoed faintly, each step swallowed by the age-old hush of the chapel. Towering stone pillars lined the sides of the nave, their bases weathered and cracked by time but still stubbornly standing. Between them, statues stood vigil, solemn warrior women carved in flawless detail. Each one held a polearm crowned with a sculpted flame.

Naruto felt small beneath their gaze, like a child walking into the memory of something once divine.

The pews were long ruined. Some stood crookedly in their rows, while others lay collapsed and splintered in chaotic heaps. Dust clung to every surface. Time had not been kind to this place, and yet… it endured.

But Naruto's eyes weren't drawn to the decay or the shadows. They were locked onto the altar at the far end of the hall.

It rose on a shallow platform, surrounded by a flickering ring of candles. Their flames danced in wrought-iron holders shaped like birds in flight, each tiny flame casting long shadows on the surrounding walls. Behind the altar, two massive arched metal windows were fused into the stone.

And in the center of it all stood a statue.

It was a woman, robed and regal, her head bowed gently as she cradled a child in her arms. Her expression was carved with an eerie tenderness, so lifelike that for a heartbeat, Naruto felt as if the stone might draw breath. The child rested against her chest, small and fragile, its face hidden in the crook of her arm.

There was something haunting about the statue. It wasn't the beauty or the craftsmanship. It was the emotion embedded in the stone. Not triumph. Not peace.

But sorrow. Quiet, bottomless grief that bled into every fold of her robe, every inch of her fingers wrapped around the infant.

Naruto's breath caught in his throat.

He remembered the statue of the Nameless King that he and Solaire had stood before. That one had radiated divine strength and judgment. But this… this statue felt different.

This one grieved.

And at its feet, resting on the altar, was a body. Or what remained of one. The figure had long since burned away, its limbs blackened and brittle, curled protectively around something clutched to its hollow chest. Naruto stepped closer, hesitating only slightly before crouching beside the remains.

It was a soul.

But unlike the others he had seen, this one flickered with a pale, soft white fire. It pulsed, as if it were trying to keep breathing. Trying to remain.

Was this… an offering? A sacrifice?

Naruto didn't have time to think about this as his gaze shifted to the guardian over this sacrifice.

A giant, clad head to toe in steel, its towering form making even the thick church pillars seem narrow in comparison. Its armor was immense, weathered by battle, each plate of heavy steel dented and scratched but still as unbreakable as a fortress. A massive Tower Shield rested against its arm, broad enough to swallow an entire man whole. And in its other hand was a mace. A weapon far too large for any normal warrior to wield, its head covered in spikes, its sheer weight enough to crush bones with a single strike.

The Berenike Knight stood still for a moment, its helmeted head turning slightly toward Naruto. It moved slowly and deliberately, like an executioner approaching the condemned.

Naruto exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Well. Guess my first day of church is going to involve a lot of fighting, dattebayo."

The knight lunged, raising its massive mace for a brutal overhead slam.

Naruto moved first.

The knight's mace came down like a meteor, the air groaning under its weight. But Naruto was already in motion, feet blurring as he stepped inside the arc of the blow. Twisting his body, he angled the massive blade and caught the descending mace with the flat of the sword.

Steel screamed against steel.

The impact was titanic.

A deafening clang rang out as the shockwave burst from the collision, sending a tremor rippling through the church. The stone floor cracked beneath their feet, spiderweb fissures racing outward like lightning through marble. Nearby pews exploded into splinters, flung like shrapnel from the sudden pressure blast. Dust and fragments of shattered debris filled the air.

Naruto's arm buckled slightly from the force, but he held. He felt the resonance in his bones, the violent tremble of power against power. But his grip didn't falter. His body, trained and reinforced, absorbed the brunt while his chakra surged to meet the strain.

And then, he turned it.

Using the angle of the parry, he pushed the mace aside, guiding it harmlessly to the floor in a crunch of pulverized stone. The knight staggered, caught off balance from the sudden redirection.

Naruto didn't waste the opening.

Wind chakra flooded into his Zweihander.

It accepted it like a thirsty beast.

One of the things he loved most about the reinforced Zweihander—besides the sheer weight behind every blow—was how it responded to his chakra like it was forged from chakra metal. He raised the blade, poised to strike. But just as he shifted to deliver the cleaving blow, a whistle cut through the air, sharp and sudden.

Way of Focality screamed in his mind.

Naruto twisted, but not fast enough.

A blue bolt of energy screamed through the air, a razor-thin lance of force that sliced through Naruto's leather gauntlet.

There was no time to scream. No time to brace.

The impact ripped his wrist apart, shredding muscle and cracking bone. Blood burst from the wound in a hot, violent spray, painting the air in crimson as his hand was nearly severed at the joint.

A pulse of agony detonated through his body. His nerves lit up like fire, breath catching in his throat as his vision swam from the shock. But he didn't fall. He couldn't fall. Because in Lordran, pain didn't wait for you to recover. And neither did death.

The Berenike Knight's mace came sweeping toward him, its immense force sending a rippling shockwave that blew open the massive church doors, the hinges groaning in protest.

Naruto threw himself backward, skidding across the stone as blood poured from the open stump of his wrist, leaving a scarlet trail on the floor. Move. Don't think. Still mid-motion, Naruto grabbed his Estus Flask with his stump of a wrist, using chakra control to keep hold of it as he brought it to his lips.

The golden liquid poured down his throat, warm and electric, igniting his cells.

The pain dulled, and flesh began to knit itself back together—veins, muscle, bone—until his hand reformed completely, fingers flexing as sensation returned.

But he had no time to rest.

A loud bang echoed through the church as the Berenike Knight slammed its tower shield into the ground, the sound resonating like a war drum.

A chorus of growls followed as Balder Knights; at least five of them their thin, elegant swords drawn, moved in organized formation as they poured in from the church entrance.

And that wasn't the worst part.

Perched on the open balcony above was a figure draped in dark robes, their garments adorned with intricate metal rings, forming a chain-like pattern across the front. Their face was hidden beneath a mask, its surface covered in rows of small, hollow eyes, making it look almost insectoid. A flat, circular headdress sat atop their head, giving them an otherworldly presence.

And in their hands was a trident.

The Channeler tilted its head, observing Naruto with an almost curious air as a blue glow ignited along the shaft of its weapon.

Naruto clicked his tongue. "Tch. You first, then."

Naruto's shadow clone vanished, popping into a cloud of white smoke that spread across the church floor, obscuring him from view. The boy moved instantly, using the cover to run up one of the massive stone pillars, using his chakra to grip the surface as he kicked off, launching himself toward the Channeler.

The robed figure anticipated his approach, already calculating the trajectory of his movements.

Naruto realized he needed a long-range ninjutsu, but he still had options. The boy flung a shuriken, but the Channeler didn't even flinch—its mask gave nothing away.

It had already predicted the throw.

It readied its magic, and then a second shuriken slammed into the first.

The unexpected impact altered its course, changing its angle mid-flight, and before the Channeler could react, the blade sliced into its neck. The figure staggered, its spell fizzling out, hands grasping at the embedded weapon as it gurgled in shock.

The second floor of the church was something else entirely.

Naruto landed lightly on the balcony railing, eyes sweeping the upper level. A dozen Hollows lurked there, their tattered robes hanging off skeletal frames, their broken swords gripped in twitching fingers.

But Naruto's focus wasn't on them.

It was on the Channeler.

The robed figure stood at the far end of the balcony, its many-eyed mask betraying no emotion as it raised its trident, a blue glow surging at its tip. With a flick of its wrist, a Soul Arrow fired.

The bolt of magic cut through the air and passed harmlessly through Naruto's afterimage. The real Naruto had already moved. He flickered into place behind the Channeler, kunai already coated in wind chakra.

One clean slice.

The Channeler's head rolled from its shoulders, a gurgling hiss escaping its throat before its body collapsed.

Naruto exhaled sharply, shifting his grip as a new notification flashed before his eyes.

[Item obtained: Channeler's Trident]

But there was no time to celebrate as the mob of Hollows saw blood.

A horrifying shriek filled the air as they lunged, moving in a wild, frenzied mass, gnashing teeth and broken swords reaching for him.

Naruto flickered behind them, silent as shadows, watching the Hollows tear into the Channeler's corpse with mindless fury—ripping, clawing, hacking without purpose or pause. "Guess I'll grab his robes next time. Not like he's going anywhere."

He adjusted his grip on the trident, feeling its perfect balance shift with the faint hum of magic still clinging to its blades. Then he lunged forward.

The three-pronged spear spun with a piercing whir, the jagged, serrated tips rotating like a meat grinder as Naruto drove the weapon straight into the back of the nearest Hollow. The moment steel met undead flesh, the weapon came alive.

There was no resistance, only destruction.

Meat tore with a sickening rip. Vertebrae cracked and twisted under the force. The trident carved through the Hollow's spine, the spinning motion chewing through muscle and marrow. The creature convulsed violently as its body was ripped apart from the inside, blood and clots of blackened gore spraying outward in a gruesome burst.

In the space of a heartbeat, the Hollow split down the middle, torn open like a rotten fruit. Its two halves collapsed to the floor in steaming, twitching piles of viscera.

Naruto whistled low, spinning the trident once as the gore dripped from its tips. "This thing's awesome."

But the rest of the Hollow mob wasn't so impressed.

With shrieks and howls, they descended on him in a frenzy.

Naruto's smirk widened. He slammed a talisman to the floor. A split second later, a miraculous explosion of force erupted from his body in a sphere of white light. The Hollows were hurled backward in all directions. Some were flung headfirst into the stone walls, their skulls shattering on impact. Others crashed through the ruined pews, limbs cracking, spines snapping like dry twigs. Several hit the balcony railings above and tumbled down in a tangle of broken arms and legs, landing with wet, final crunches.

Before they could even twitch, Naruto summoned a squad of shadow clones with a flick of his wrist. They fell upon the scattered Hollows like wolves—driving kunai into eyes, snapping necks, tearing limbs with chakra-enhanced strikes.

The church was filled with the sound of flesh breaking.

Naruto exhaled slowly as silence returned. He lowered the trident, its tines still dripping. "That takes care of that."

Naruto's gaze swept the lower sanctum of the church. Below, the Berenike Knight stood at the center like an immovable monolith. Around him, three Balder Knights slinked along the flanks, their slim blades glinting under the fractured light.

They had lost sight of him.

For now.

He grinned faintly and raised the Channeler's Trident, slamming its wicked prongs into the stone floor with a dramatic flourish. "Go, Magic Arrow!"

Nothing happened.

Naruto blinked once.

No glow. No arcane flash. Not even a sizzle. Just the hollow clang of metal on stone.

"Right. Still need to learn how to shape my soul into magic."

Below, the clone vanguard exploded into action. Dozens leapt from the balcony in a coordinated assault, blades and fists whirling through the air as they crashed into the Balder Knights. Steel met steel, and the church rang with the clash of metal, the screams of dying clones, and the snarls of the undead. But Naruto's eyes were locked on the Berenike Knight.

He kicked off the railing with a sharp cry—"Dattebayo!"—descending like a diving hawk, cloak trailing behind him.

The Knight reacted instantly, swinging its enormous mace in a wide, crushing arc, which was only met by a wooden log as Naruto substituted and flickered behind the Knight.

Wind Style: Vacuum Blade!

Wind chakra swirled around the spinning prongs. The weapon ripped through the air, screaming toward the Knight's armpit—one of the few gaps in its massive armor. The trident drove in deep, twisting on contact. With a sickening crack, the Berenike Knight's shield arm tore free from the socket, flesh and sinew shredding apart as tendons popped like frayed cords. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, dark and steaming, misting the air like a burst artery.

The severed arm, still gripping the massive tower shield, hit the floor with a thunderous clang.

But the Knight didn't fall.

It roared, an inhuman bellow that rattled the walls, and raised its mace with its remaining arm—intent on reducing Naruto to pulp.

Naruto channeled wind chakra into the plates of his armor as the mace came down like a meteor, allowing him to dodge just in time.

The Berenike Knight's mace struck the stone floor where Naruto had stood an instant before. The impact was devastating—a crater formed beneath the weapon, a spiderweb of cracks erupting outward as a shockwave rattled through the crumbling church foundation.

Both warriors turned, eyes locking.

The Knight's helmet betrayed no expression, only a silent hunger for violence. But Naruto's grin was sharp, calculating. "You know," he said, cracking his neck as the wind around him hissed like a coiled snake, "this would be a lot easier if I didn't want your armor, shield, and weapon."

He popped his neck to the other side.

"But alas."

In a blur, Naruto's hands moved.

Shuriken flew from his fingers, each one bending around the great stone pillars of the church like curved blades riding invisible currents of wind.

They weren't meant to kill.

Not yet.

While the Berenike Knight shifted its stance to deflect the barrage, Naruto slipped toward the corpse of a fallen Balder Knight. He bent low, fingers curling around the cold hilt of the Balder Side Sword.

Naruto exhaled and took a low stance, feet shoulder-width apart, blade pointed in line with his opponent.

The Berenike Knight lunged.

But so did Naruto.

He wasn't faster, not in the raw sense. The Knight was a mountain, a charging fortress of iron and fury.

But Naruto wasn't really attacking.

He was baiting.

Just as the Knight committed to the charge, Naruto twisted hard to the left and dove behind the very pillar where one of his kunai had embedded itself earlier. The Knight's massive armored legs thundered forward until they didn't.

Its body jerked.

Then halted.

There was no noise. No spark. Just a sudden tightening in the air.

Fine lines shimmered, faintly visible for only a second—like dew catching moonlight.

Ninja wire.

Invisible threads of steel, woven between the pews and pillars in a complex spiderweb, anchored by every shuriken Naruto had thrown. But these weren't normal wires. They were thin, razor-like filaments, each one coated in wind chakra that hummed with murderous intent.

The Knight had charged into a death trap.

First its arms dropped. Then its head. And finally, with a trembling groan, its massive body collapsed forward like a crumbling obelisk.

[VICTORY ACHIEVED][You have gained:][1,000 Souls][Titanite Shard][Tower Shield][Steel Helm][Steel Armor][Steel Gauntlets][Steel Leggings]

"Whew. That was fun," Naruto muttered, rolling his shoulders as the last echoes of battle faded into silence. He turned to the remaining clones, who were already cleaning gore from their blades.

"Scout the area. Find the elevator. Check for traps while you're at it."

The clones nodded and vanished into the shadowed hallways like mist, boots barely whispering against the ruined stone floor. Alone again, Naruto crouched beside the fresh corpses of the Balder Knights. His fingers moved quickly but respectfully, prying open stiffened grips and loosening belts. One by one, he pulled the spoils free, laying them neatly at his side.

[You have obtained:][300 Souls][Large Titanite Shard][Balder Side Sword][Balder Shield × 3][Rapier × 3][Balder Armour Set × 3]

He let out a low whistle, eyes gleaming at the haul. "Not bad. Pretty sure Tenten's in for a shock when I show her all of this." With a smile on his face, he turned back to the altar. The pale white flame still flickered above the burned corpse, its glow soft yet unnatural. Frowning, he reached out, grasping the strange fire-like soul in his palm.

[Item Acquired: Fire Keeper Soul][Description: Soul of a long-lost Fire Keeper. Each Fire Keeper is a corporeal manifestation of her bonfire, and a draw for the humanity which is offered to her. Her soul is gnawed by infinite humanity and can boost the power of the precious Estus Flasks. It can be used to gain Humanity and restore HP at the cost of losing the Fire Keeper Soul to reinforce the Estus Flasks.]

Naruto squinted at the text, lips curling in confusion. "...What?"

Corporeal manifestation of her bonfire? His brows furrowed as he searched his memories, thinking back to every flickering flame he'd ever rested beside. Had he ever seen someone sitting near one? A woman?

But his thoughts were interrupted by the sudden groan of iron and the rattle of thick chains grinding through ancient gears.

His gaze snapped to the far end of the church.

One of his shadow clones was descending in an open iron lift, its grated floor swaying slightly as it was lowered on a massive, rusted chain coiled above like the guts of some mechanical serpent.

"That must be the elevator," Naruto muttered.

But his boots didn't move.

He lingered in place, eyes fixed on the open elevator leading back to Firelink Shrine. He could take it—return to safety, rest by the familiar flame, even begin his search for Rickert in New Londo to start his training in magic. But just above him, within reach, hung the First Bell of Awakening. Closer now than it had ever been.

His jaw tightened.

Was he ready for that? The bells were important. Everyone said so. Ringing them would summon something. Or awaken something. Or call someone. And whatever came after… he wasn't sure if he was prepared to deal with it.

Not yet.

Not with the Wave mission unfinished. Not with Gato still alive. Not with so much still brewing under the surface.

"I'll do it later," he said softly to himself.

He stepped into the elevator.

The metal cage trembled as it began its slow descent, chains rattling above him. Naruto leaned against the bars, watching the light of the church above retreat, swallowed by the dark throat of the shaft.

Because in that moment, with that single step down, something in the fabric of fate twisted. Just slightly. Just enough.

If he had chosen to ascend instead—to face the Gargoyles above and ring the First Bell of Awakening—perhaps he would have walked the path others had carved before him. The path of light. Of prophecy. Of gods and fire.

But Naruto turned away.

He didn't know it then—how far that turn would take him from the story written by the gods, and toward one of his own making.

One not bound by the cycles of Fire and Dark, but by chaos and calamity.

For life isn't forged in prophecy. It's forged in choice.

How many times in life does something just click; a sensation so sudden, so pure, it crashes through the mind like sunlight through storm clouds? That spark of knowing, of rightness, as if the world briefly aligns?

That was what Naruto felt.

As the rusted chains groaned and the elevator descended, a golden shaft of sunlight spilled through the open cage, warm and gentle against his bloodstained armor. Below, the branches of the great tree came into view—twisting, ancient things that pierced the crumbling architecture of Firelink Shrine.

The lift clanked to a halt at the small stone platform where, long ago—or was it only a month—Naruto had first taken the wrong path into the graveyard of the dead. Now, seeing it from above, through the filtered glow of sunlight and the quiet rustle of wind, the place didn't seem cursed.

It felt like home.

"This is awesome," Naruto whispered, the corners of his mouth curling into a small grin. Dattebayo…

A strange sense of nostalgia washed over him, unexpected and bittersweet. For all the horrors Lordran had thrown at him, this broken shrine was the closest thing he had to peace. He took a long breath. The air smelled of ash and moss and something faintly metallic. The world here was quiet in a way nothing else in Lordran was. Not dead, just... resting.

Descending the steps carved into the stone, he paused at the sight of a familiar figure.

Petrus of Thorolund.

The cleric stood in his usual place near the crumbled wall, hands calmly folded over his belt, his face a mask of serene condescension. "Ah," Petrus said smoothly, his voice like honey poured over iron. "Greetings once more. You seem to have been... busy."

Naruto exhaled, slow and deliberate, suppressing the spike of irritation he felt toward the man and the sanctimonious cult he represented. "Can the Heal miracle cure curses?"

Petrus raised an eyebrow. "Ah… a wise question." His tone was smooth, measured, insufferably smug. "The power of the gods, my friend, is absolute. If your faith is strong enough, there is no affliction that miracles cannot mend."

"Cut the bullshit. Yes or no?"

That pulled a chuckle from the priest. He reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a scroll—old parchment bound in golden thread, inscribed with delicate ink patterns that shimmered faintly in the light.

"It is as I said," Petrus replied. "Such things are well within the grasp of divine power."

He extended the scroll toward Naruto.

"Four thousand souls."

Naruto checked his HUD.

[Souls: 22,000]

Without a word, he passed the souls across and inspected the miracle scroll.

Petrus gave him a nod, equal parts approval and condescension. "Very good. You are learning. But remember…" His voice dipped, oily and smug. "The effectiveness of divine magic depends not on the miracle itself—but on the faith of the vessel that wields it."

Naruto resisted the urge to tell him exactly what he thought of that. Instead, he turned away, muttering a curt, "Thanks."

He moved deeper into the shrine, feet tracing familiar steps across the mosaic floor. The great bonfire awaited him, nestled in the heart of the ruin. Its embers danced lazily, casting flickering light across the crumbled stone archways and broken pathways that spiraled out like the spokes of a shattered wheel.

Naruto sat down beside the flame, feeling the warmth seep into his limbs. He rested the scroll beside him and glanced around, eyes searching the half-ruined alcoves of the shrine.

Alexander wasn't there.

"Tch," he muttered under his breath. "Kinda miss that depressed guy."

Funny how silence could feel louder when someone was missing.

[Item: Heal Miracle][Description: An elementary miracle cast by clerics. Restores HP. To cast a miracle, the caster must learn the sacred words, calling upon the will of the gods. Heal is the shortest and simplest of such prayers.]

Naruto's fingers traced the worn parchment, the inked script flowing in elegant, looping characters.

"O light of the divine, let your radiance mend flesh and restore spirit. In the name of the first flame, let this body be made whole."

The moment the words left his lips, the system responded.

[Fireball has been replaced by the attunement of the Heal Miracle.]

But Naruto barely registered the miracle's system message as a vision washed over him.

He stood on a vast battlefield scorched by war. The earth was blackened and torn, spears jutting up like the bones of giants. Hundreds... no, thousands of knights in silver armor moved in grim formation, each one bearing a shield etched with divine markings. They were smaller than the Black Knights he'd faced—more human, less monstrous. But they fought with a burning desperation, as if standing between the world and its end.

At their heart stood a young man in gleaming gold-trimmed armor. His hair shone like a halo, and his hands glowed with celestial light. With arms outstretched, he released a radiant pulse—a circle of golden healing that swept across the broken army like a rising dawn. Wounded knights lifted their heads. Crushed limbs straightened. Blood reversed its course.

"Lloyd…" Naruto murmured, guessing who the figure was. That must be Young Lloyd…

But the vision did not end.

The battlefield shook. The soldiers froze. Their eyes turned skyward.

Naruto followed their gaze.

And there, emerging from the swirling clouds, was something vast.

Something ancient.

An Everlasting Dragon.

Its scales shimmered like molten glass, layered in translucent silver and starlight. It moved slowly, not from weariness but from an unspoken authority—each motion deliberate, sovereign. Its wings didn't flap—they undulated, bending the very air with their sheer mass. Its eyes, impossibly large, gazed down at the world not with malice—but with quiet detachment. A gaze that had seen gods rise and fall like waves on the shore.

The vision dimmed.

The miracle faded.

But Naruto didn't move. He wasn't caught by the healing, or the golden light, or the battlefield echoing with the sounds of war. He was caught by that.

The dragon.

Naruto blinked slowly, the bonfire's light returning to full glow. The scroll of the Heal miracle rested in his lap, still warm. But his thoughts had drifted far, far above.

"…That dragon," he whispered, eyes wide. "Why did it feel like it saw me?"

Shaking his head, Naruto equipped his talisman, gripping it tightly in his hand as he drew in a slow breath. He closed his eyes and focused—not just on the miracle he had just learned, but on the memory the scroll had shown him.

The battlefield. The wounded knights. The golden light spilling from Young Lloyd's hands.

Naruto whispered a prayer under his breath, mimicking the stance he had seen. Feet planted shoulder-width apart, knees bent slightly. He brought the talisman close to his chest and focused—not on chakra, but on faith. Whatever that meant in this world.

The talisman pulsed.

A golden ring of light flared beneath him. Intricate lines of script formed between concentric circles, each glyph burning with a soft radiance. The light rose in a slow wave, washing over his armor and skin with the warmth of a distant sun.

A sigh slipped from his lips, unbidden.

It felt good. Not like drinking an Estus, where the healing came sharp and sudden. This was different. Like his soul was being steadied. Like someone had gently placed a hand on his shoulder and told him to rest. To breathe.

When the light faded, Naruto flexed his fingers. Then, hesitantly, he lifted his cursed arm. For a heartbeat, he felt something. He dared to hope. He unlatched the gauntlet.

A cold draft kissed his skin as his heart sank.

The hand beneath was still blackened, withered—a dead thing clinging to a living body. Useless. The miracle had done nothing.

Naruto stared. Then exhaled slowly. "Figures," he muttered.

Oddly enough, he wasn't angry. Not really. He needed the Heal miracle anyway. He'd learned that during the Wave mission—Estus flasks weren't infinite. If the world wanted to throw hell at him, he'd need every tool he could get.

Still…

He was definitely going to throw this in Petrus' smug face. "PETRUS, YOU BASTARD! THE HEAL MIRACLE DIDN'T DO SHIT!"

"Are you serious right now?!"

The ancient stones, long since accustomed to silence and suffering, seemed almost startled by the outburst.

Naruto turned sharply, eyes narrowing to slits as he spotted the source of his ire. The cleric approached with measured steps, hands folded neatly in front of him, wearing that same insufferable expression of practiced humility.

"Ah, my pupil."

"Don't you dare ever call me that," Naruto snapped, voice low and dangerous.

Unbothered or at least pretending to be, Petrus offered a shallow bow. "Apologies. I meant no offense. Perhaps you would be interested in the Great Heal Excerpt? A mere ten thousand souls. A small price for one so... talented."

Naruto's jaw slackened. "...How shameless can one person be?"

"One cannot place a value on the power of the gods. Souls are, after all, the currency of faith."

Naruto exhaled through gritted teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Petrus, I swear to every god you've ever name-dropped… I am this close to kicking you off the cliff."

The cleric's eyes flicked subtly toward the ledge behind him. He smiled awkwardly and raised his hands in mock surrender. "I was merely trying to help. Knowledge must be earned, after all." Naruto didn't buy a single word of it. Not for a second. But he changed tactics—not to spare Petrus, but to get what he needed.

"You really wanna help? Then tell me where Alexander went."

That caught Petrus off guard. His smile twitched. "Alexander…? Ah yes. The crestfallen warrior."

"Yeah. Him."

Petrus offered a half-hearted shrug. "Perhaps he was inspired by your heroics. Not many of us have the privilege of witnessing someone from another world."

Naruto froze. He turned to face Petrus fully, all levity gone from his face. "...What did you just say?"

Petrus blinked. Once. Then coughed awkwardly into his sleeve, a bead of sweat appearing at his temple. "Oh… well… ahem." He shifted, suddenly unsure of his footing. "Your… green soul drop. It caught my attention. It wasn't… native. Alexander absorbed it after you left. Then he simply… went."

Naruto narrowed his eyes. There was more to that story. Much more. But now wasn't the time. He could feel it—this man was a snake, but the kind that only bit when cornered. Pushing now wouldn't work. Better to bait him later.

"Fine," Naruto said flatly. "Then how about this, you wanna be useful? Tell me how to get to the New Londo Ruins."

Petrus gave an exaggerated sigh, as if the question itself burdened him. "Ah, but that is very important information," he said, tone mockingly grave. "I'm afraid I cannot simply give it away. That would cheapen its value." He smiled again, extending one hand palm-up, waiting... no, expecting a bribe.

"However…" he continued smoothly, "as my pupil..."

Naruto's chakra flared.

A wave of killing intent rolled off him like a crashing tide. The smug cleric stumbled back, breath seizing in his throat as the warmth drained from the world around him. Shadows deepened. Time seemed to still.

Then, without a sound, a massive blade touched the soft flesh of his throat.

The Black Zweihander hovered inches from severing his head, steady in Naruto's grip. "Kidney. Spleen. Fingers," Naruto said, his voice ice-cold, each word a scalpel. "Pick your offering, Petrus."

The cleric didn't move. Couldn't. Sweat rolled down his temple, his knees trembled beneath him. That cheery mask of false holiness cracked, revealing raw, quivering fear underneath. "You get to choose how this goes. Tell me what I want, or I start removing things until you run out."

Petrus cracked. "The stairway beside the old tree!" he gasped. "Take the stairs down towards an old elevator! It leads to the New Londo Ruins."

Just as suddenly as it had come, the killing aura evaporated. The weight lifted. Light returned.

Petrus collapsed, landing hard on his knees, robes sodden with sweat. He coughed and wheezed, air finally filling his lungs again.

"See? That wasn't so hard."

He turned, taking a step toward the edge of the shrine.

"You'll regret this!" Petrus snarled, voice brittle but rising with defiance. "When the Lady arrives… and the rest of the Way of White, they'll see what you are. They'll hunt you down like the damned Hollow you are!"

Naruto paused.

One step. Two. Then he slowly turned his head, eyes sharp as glass.

Petrus's voice died in his throat. The false bravado drained from his face like blood from an open wound. He stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet as Naruto's expression said more than words ever could.

"You're only alive," Naruto said evenly, "because I still need your miracles."

Petrus bolted, cloak flapping behind him, vanishing into the darkness of the shrine.

Naruto exhaled through his nose and muttered, "Scum."

He descended the spiral staircase toward the sound of running water and clinking chains, the great ruins below calling to him like a whisper in the deep. It was time to find Rickert of Vinheim.

A Fire Keeper does not dream.

At least, that is what she told herself. But some nights, when the world above was quiet—when the cursed Undead who rested at her flame had long since left, and the sky was frozen in its eternal, stagnant cycle—she thought she could remember.

Warmth.

Not from the bonfire above, not from the heat that coiled through her veins, binding her to its glow. No, this was different. It was the warmth of sunlight, the warmth of another's hand grasping hers. A presence, a voice, something she once knew.

But the memories never stayed. Because Fire Keepers do not dream.

She heard it before she felt it. The soft crackle of fire, the familiar whisper of embers shifting as someone sat at the Firelink Shrine bonfire. The flame flared to life, its energy washing over her like a tide, filling her with purpose, with duty. She let out a slow breath, her body trembling at the sensation. She was useful. That was all that mattered.

The soil above her was thin. She could feel the weight of the bonfire pressing down, its tether binding her to this cage, this hole in the earth that was neither tomb nor home.

She could never leave. Not far, at least.

If she strayed too far from the flame, it would flicker, grow weak and fade.

And then what would she be? Nothing.

A Fire Keeper without fire had no purpose.

And so she stayed, listening to the sounds of the shrine above, counting time by the footsteps of the lost souls who passed through. Most of them came and went without a word. Some lingered, hesitating by the bonfire, staring into the flames with vacant, hollowed-out eyes. A few spoke to her, demanding, taking, asking for power, for the flame she tended so obediently.

But they never stayed.

They never looked at her. She was a thing, a means to an end, a forgotten voice locked in the dark.

And that was fine.

It had to be.

Then, new footsteps.

She heard them long before she saw the one who made them. Strong, purposeful, yet unburdened by the weight of despair that clung to most Undead.

Young.

That was the first thing she noticed. The Undead that passed through Firelink Shrine were often weathered, beaten, barely clinging to their sanity. But this one was different.

The second thing she noticed was his armor. Her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn't seen that crest in so long, not since... (Don't think about it. Fire Keepers do not dream.)

He turned toward her and then, he spoke. "Hello there."

Her fingers curled, dragging her maimed legs forward as she inched closer to the bars, her head resting against the cold iron.

She wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Not with pity, not with revulsion, but with curiosity. Maybe it was the fact that, for the first time in ages, someone had actually greeted her. Or maybe it was because, for the briefest moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes.

Something like kindness.

"My name is Naruto, Squire of Oscar, Elite Knight of Astora." The boy's voice was bright and steady. "What's your name?"

Anastacia opened her mouth and revealed nothing. Where her tongue should have been, there was only a mutilated stump. It was jagged and raw. Long since scarred over from where they had cut it out.

It was fair, really.

She deserved it. No need for useless words, for idle chatter. Her purpose was simple. Tend to the bonfire. Sustain it for the Undead. For the Church. For the Gods.

There was no need for a Fire Keeper to speak.

And yet Naruto reached into his pouch, pulling out a talisman. A soft golden glow flickered to life in his hands as he began to cast a Heal Miracle.

Anastacia's breath caught. Did he… want to heal her tongue?

The thought sent a shock through her chest, an unfamiliar, unsettling feeling coiling in her gut. She didn't deserve that. The warmth of the miracle surrounded her, curling at the edges of her wounds, reaching... She grunted, violently pushing herself away from the bars, turning her face away from him.

The warmth receded.

Naruto hesitated. "Hey, I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong? Are you hurt?"

She remained silent.

Naruto frowned. "Did it not work?" He clicked his tongue. "Oh, that damn Petrus. I knew he sold me some useless crap. I swear, I'm gonna find him and..."

Anastacia inhaled sharply.

A cold sensation bloomed in her mouth. The miracle had worked. Her body shook, but she forced herself still, shaking her head.

Naruto blinked. "What? Do you not want me to go give him a piece of my mind?"

She nodded quickly. She couldn't let him be antagonistic to the Way of White. To the Age of Fire. To the Gods. If he did, he would stray. He would turn from his purpose. And that was something she could not allow.

"You know, if the Heal Miracle didn't work all the way, maybe you should try an Estus Flask. That stuff regenerated my entire arm. It might do the same for you." He crouched down, reaching through the bars of her cage, placing an Estus Flask before her.

Anastacia stared at it.

She did not move. She did not react. She did nothing.

Naruto huffed. "You know, I just learned that the bonfires are… corporeal manifestations of Fire Keepers. I guess that means I have you to thank for the Firelink Shrine bonfire."

Her breath hitched.

She turned to him, wide-eyed. The words hit her like a strike to the chest. Gratitude? For her? For something so small, so meaningless? She hadn't realized she was crying until the tears hit the stone floor.

Her body trembled.

Naruto panicked. "H-Hey, hey, don't cry! You're awesome! You're the reason I get to always come back to a bonfire!"

He fumbled for words, trying to fix what he had done, but she couldn't stop.

She had been thanked.

In all her years in this cage, in all the long, endless days of serving, tending, fueling the fire... No one had ever thanked her. Anastacia's gaze lifted just in time to see Naruto pull something from his inventory, and her breath caught once more.

It floated before her, glowing with a soft, ethereal white flame.

A Fire Keeper's Soul.

Another sister, gone.

Anastacia stared at the soul, her own hands trembling as she reached for it. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the bars, whispering a silent prayer.

A prayer for her fallen sister.

A prayer congratulating her, for being useful to the Chosen Undead. She gently crushed the soul, letting its white liquid drip into the Estus Flask, merging with it—reinforcing it so that the flask would retain more of the healing heat.

Then, with a small push, she slid the flask back toward Naruto. He blinked, staring at her in shock. She said nothing. She only bowed her head, a quiet act of thanks.

Naruto turned the reinforced Estus Flask over in his hands, its golden liquid glowing just a bit brighter than before. He scratched the back of his head, offering a small, unsure smile. "Thanks for the upgrade."

Anastacia only nodded. Her fingers twitched slightly, then lifted, pointing at the rest of the flasks he carried. "Oh, you wanna do the rest?"

She said nothing, only kept her hand extended. Wordlessly, he placed the remaining Estus Flasks before her. The glow of the Fire Keeper's soul still lingered in her fingers, sinking into the flasks with each reinforcement.

More power. More warmth. Something she could give him.

When she finished, she pushed the flasks back through the bars, her hands retreating once more into her lap.

Naruto picked them up, nodding in thanks before glancing around. "Hey, can you point me toward the elevator to New Londo?"

Anastacia lifted a pale hand, pointing towards the spiraling stairway leading down.

"Got it."

He stood, adjusting the weight of his armor, readying himself to leave.

Anastacia wanted to stop him.

To say something. To make him stay, just a little longer. To hear his voice, to have someone acknowledge her, not just as a Fire Keeper, not just as a silent servant of the flame but as a person.

But that wasn't her purpose.

She could not burden him with her impure tongue. She had no right to speak freely. Even now, though the Heal Miracle had restored her tongue, her lips remained sealed shut, her voice a prisoner to the teachings that had been carved into her soul long ago. But then Naruto stopped. He turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "…Hey, next time, if you wanna talk, I'd love to know who you are, Fire Keeper."

Anastacia's breath hitched. He knew.

She clenched her fists, heart hammering against her ribs, her mind screaming at her to remain silent, to stay in her place. And yet a whisper escaped her lips, soft, trembling, uncertain. "...Th...thank you."

Naruto's eyes widened slightly.

She swallowed, pushing through the shame, the fear, the ingrained obedience that told her to shut her mouth and be silent. "I... I am Anastacia of Astora."

The words felt strange leaving her mouth—forbidden, dangerous, like a prayer spoken out of turn. She dropped her gaze, hands curling in her lap. "Now, I can continue my duty as a Keeper... but I only hope that my impure tongue does not offend."

Naruto stared at her for a moment.

Then, he smiled. "See you around, Anastacia."

And with that, he turned and made his way down the stone steps, disappearing into the ruins below. Anastacia leaned against the cold iron bars, her fingers brushing against the rusted metal as she stared after him, waiting.

Hoping.

A Fire Keeper mustn't dream.

But I dream for you to return... O Chosen Undead.

Then a sound. A sharp, piercing caw echoed through the shrine, making her spine stiffen. A small crow landed on the grass before her, pecking at the earth before lifting its head, tilting it slightly as it stared at her.

For a moment, she thought nothing of it.

But then, something shifted in the shadows beyond it. A gleaming yellow eye, deep in the darkness, watching.

Anastacia's blood turned to ice.

She knew what that meant. She was being watched. The Gods saw everything, and a Fire Keeper had no place to dream.

No place to hope.

Only to serve.

"Anastacia of Astora... huh." Naruto muttered the name to himself as he made his way down the winding staircase beneath Firelink Shrine. The stone steps were uneven, their edges eroded from time and moisture, slick with lichen that squelched faintly beneath his boots. He kept one hand on the wall, tracing the deep grooves.

His thoughts lingered on the girl beneath the shrine. She wasn't like the other Undead he'd seen.

No madness in her eyes. No frantic desperation clawing at her movements. Just silence. A heavy, permanent kind.

She was still.

Caged beneath the shrine, surrounded by rusted iron and crumbling masonry, Anastacia had looked like something preserved. Her hands were scarred, fingers twisted unnaturally, gripping the bars of her cell like they were the last remnants of the world she belonged to. Her tongue... gone. Her legs... ruined beyond healing.

Someone had mutilated her. Taken her voice. Crushed her freedom.

And then had the nerve to leave her in charge of the Fire.

Naruto clenched his jaw and pressed forward. The staircase ended in a domed chamber where the walls curved with age, forming a low arch of bricked stone that pressed down like a shallow bowl. The entrance to the elevator was framed by iron gatework, corroded and bent inward like a maw. Rusted chains hung in bundles from the ceiling above, tangled and twisted into the elevator mechanism itself.

Three interlocking rings formed the base of the platform, each one carved with worn, overlapping symbols. What they once meant was long lost, their etchings now nothing more than ghostly swirls and fractured geometry. A thick lever, caked in grime, jutted up from a stone plate near the edge.

Naruto stepped onto the platform. As the central disc clicked in, a deep, groaning clank echoed as the chains above came to life. The platform shuddered, then began to descend.

The world rose around him as he sank, stone walls giving way to a vast vertical shaft carved directly into the bedrock.

As the platform slowed and stopped, he stepped off into what looked like a collapsed tower base. Cracks laced the flagstones. Water had pooled in the corners, stagnant and stinking. Even the statues lining the wall had been reduced to vague humanoid shapes, their details lost to erosion.

Then the wind hit him.

Not wind like on the surface but a slow, unnatural exhale. Naruto followed the narrow walkway until it opened onto a ledge.

And there it was.

New Londo.

A drowned metropolis, its towers leaning at broken angles, rooftops caved in, streets swallowed by murky black water. Fog clung to everything. It pooled at the bases of buildings, curled around broken bridges, and hovered just above the flooded streets.

The ruins were massive. Collapsed walkways jutted out at impossible angles, half-submerged in black water that reflected nothing. Naruto's boots hit the stone with a soft slap. The silence was eerie. Even his footsteps felt muffled here.

Then he saw them.

Hollows.

But these weren't the charging, screaming husks he was used to. They stood or sat in bizarre, almost ritualistic postures. One knelt in the center of a flooded courtyard, staring into the water, hands folded in prayer. Another leaned against a support column, its body limp, yet it breathed. Barely. One more was tapping the hilt of a broken sword rhythmically against stone. Clink. Clink. Clink.

"This place isn't right."

Still, he pressed on, stepping carefully along the fractured stone, wondering how he was going to find Rickert.

A dozen shadow clones burst into existence, scattering across the area.

"RICKERT! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

For a moment, only the howling wind answered him.

"What?"

The voice was faint, disbelieving, but definitely human.

Naruto whipped his head toward the source, tracking the sound to a ledge below.

One of the many Hollowed figures sat slumped near the cliff's edge, gazing vacantly at the submerged ruins beneath the misty waters. But just beside it a hand shot out from the shadows. "I am here!"

Naruto's feet were already moving, his heart pounding as he followed the broken staircase downward, only to find that it ended abruptly, the last few steps crumbling into nothingness. He skidded to a stop, eyes scanning the rock wall to his right. And there, built into the mountain itself, was a cage-like enclosure.

"What is it with people in Lordran hiding in cave cages?"

He stepped forward, peering inside.

And there he was.

Rickert of Vinheim.

The man was clad in deep navy blue and black robes, similar to what Naruto had seen with the Sorcerer's class, though his were darker, almost faded with age. His black hair was unkempt, and his face was plain, tired, marked by an expression that spoke of years of waiting, of stillness, of resignation.

But despite that, his eyes were sharp.

They studied Naruto with careful calculation, taking in his armor, his weapons, the way he carried himself. Then, finally, he spoke. "Hrm? Well, this is unusual."

His voice was smooth, measured, but laced with a note of surprise. "You haven't lost your head. And more importantly, you know my name? How on earth...?"

"Andre sent me to find you."

Rickert's brows lifted slightly. "Ah. I'm surprised that the old man hasn't bitten the dust. A miracle, considering he isn't Undead."

Naruto froze mid-step. "Wait, what?"

Rickert raised an eyebrow. "You didn't know?" He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "You must have earned Andre's trust for him to tell you my location, yet you don't know the most basic fact about him. Hah. Strange, indeed."

"Well... I guess I never thought to ask."

Rickert exhaled lightly, tilting his head. "Well, I shouldn't pry."

He gave a small, almost amused smirk before placing a hand over his chest in a formal gesture.

"I am Rickert of Vinheim."

"Great, can you teach me magic?"

"No."