Imaki made sure the captured shinobi was properly restrained. His years as a wandering ronin before pledging loyalty to Lord Seimei had taught him well—subduing a seasoned shinobi was never easy, and never completely safe.
Meanwhile, Dojimaru extended an invitation for Raiden to rest at his mansion and be honored with a banquet. For Seimei, repaying Raiden's deeds was not simply a courtesy, but a duty—as Village Chief, it was one of the few decisions he could still control on a night where everything else had been beyond him.
"I appreciate it," Raiden replied politely. "Perhaps after we finish what remains here."
The words left Seimei puzzled. 'What remains?' he thought, until he saw Raiden moving toward the warehouse, joining villagers in lifting rubble and pulling what little could be salvaged from beneath the ruins.
'Ah… I see now. How foolish of me. This is the kind of man you are, isn't it, Raiden-sama?'
Suddenly, in Seimei's eyes, Raiden became something beyond reach—a figure from a tale, a martial hero who shielded the weak not for fame or wealth, but out of noble nature itself.
'How shameful of me to forget. Raiden-sama is right… there is still work to be done.'
Raiden, of course, had no idea what was running through Dojimaru's mind. If he did, he would have been mortified to be idolized in such a way by another man. To him, helping with the aftermath was nothing more than a calculated move—public relations, and a way to gather information about the village and its leaders.
"Seimei-sama!"
"Beloved!"
Two voices could be heard from the distance, at its origin came Uraume—a young woman clad in half-armor with a katana at her side—accompanied by Shinobu Seimei, Dojimaru's wife, a graceful woman with chestnut hair and eyes, dressed in fine noble clothes. Behind them came servants and guards, one of the maids carefully carrying infant Takumi, heir of the Seimei family.
They had been told the immediate danger had passed, and now came to see for themselves both the aftermath and Doujimaru's condition.
Still carrying crates and helping clear debris, Raiden's attention was drawn by a chakra signature—a presence nearly as vast as the puppeteer's.
'Hm? Kimiko? That girl with the katana looks like a younger version of Kimiko from The Boys…'
He shook the useless thought away focusing on the important point. Chakra quantity was important, yes, but he now understood it was not everything. Output, control, skill, and strategy mattered just as much. Still the girl had talent so he decided to keep an eye on her.
Raiden paid little heed to the exchange between Dojimaru and his wife. He kept his senses on the crowd, piecing together fragments of information: Takumi Village, Land of Rivers, end of the Shinobi World War… Slowly, a map of both geography and chronology was forming in his mind.
At the same time, he noticed whispers spreading among the villagers. His deeds and his name were already being carried from one mouth to another. The braver ones—or the ones less shaken by grief—bowed to him when they could. Raiden, calm as ever, merely acknowledged their gratitude and returned to the work at hand, shoulder to shoulder with guards and volunteers. It only strengthened his favor among the people.
By the time night had given way to the first hints of dawn, all the dead had been buried and what could be salvaged from the warehouse stored safely in the village hall. Imaki had even retrieved a scroll from the prisioner—where the stolen goods were storaged. Still, the material losses were undeniable.
Not all slept that night. Fear lingered in some, grief in others.
[POV: Raiden]
After the long night of work, I finally accepted Dojimaru Seimei's invitation to stay in his mansion. I met his family, his servants, then withdrew for a hot bath and the comfort of a guest room.
Name: Raiden
Bloodline: Dragon Emperor of Nature
Power Level: Tier 9-B
Essences:
Essence of Personal Objects [Processing: 15%]
Essence of the Cultivator [Processing: 10%]
Essence of the Shinobi [Digested: 100%]
Analyzing the window, I noticed the digestion of the Cultivator's Essence was progressing far more slowly. Probably because I haven't exercised its power yet? Perhaps if I begin cultivating, or if I act more on this Essence, the digestion will speed up. I considered this carefully. It was time to start my journey as a cultivator—at last, I had the space to do so.
First, let me check my inner world.
After scanning every corner of the mansion with my senses and feeling secure enough, I immersed myself inward.
The gray void I remembered was gone. In its place stretched a barren plain, dry and flat, like a lifeless savanna shrouded in gray mist at the horizon and a sky to match. Beside me lay the two Oni Puppets, in the same condition as when I seized them.
I nearly lost this one, I reflected, recalling how close the red puppet had come to exploding before I cast it here and severed its link to its master.
"Now then… where's my castle?"
My inner world responded to my will. Just as before, I visualized an image and pressed my power into it: a place to train the jutsu I knew but had yet to practice, to study new knowledge, to store treasures, and to cultivate.
I remembered my name—the new name I had chosen.
The inner world trembled. It transformed.
Essence of Personal Objects [Processing: 17%]
The ground shook. A mountain rose before me, towering upward, and on its peak a fortress began to take form.
"Heh… my own Tenshukaku." I grinned at the sight of something that before I had only seen in a game. "Now… how do I get up there?"
I couldn't simply teleport. Nor did I yet possess the ability to fly. Such a power had not yet been digested from the Essence. If I wanted to reach the summit, I would have to climb by my own effort. But…
"I'm tired."
I sank down where I stood.
"I think I'll continue my research from here for now."