There was no wind in the valley that night.
No breeze to move the leaves.
No noise in the trees.
Even the insects refused to sing.
It was as if nature itself had decided not to interrupt what was coming.
Or maybe it just didn't want to be part of the story that was about to be told in blood.
Five jōnin from the Hidden Stone had gathered under orders.
Not from their Tsuchikage — from someone higher in their war shadow chain.
Whispers of a "Chain Ghost" had finally reached their ears.
They were elite, veterans, men who'd survived the Third War and killed dozens without blinking.
They believed in steel, not myths.
That belief would get them killed.
Inside the earth, deep below the surface, in a hidden operations base embedded into rock, the air was heavy with chakra.
Seals pulsed on the walls.
Counter-detection genjutsu in place.
Barrier seals woven to the inch.
No one could enter.
That's what they thought.
Until the lights flickered.
Not all at once.
Just one.
In the eastern tunnel.
The jōnin paused.
Then another.
This time in the control chamber.
"Sensor unit?" one barked.
No reply.
Not silence.
Just... absence.
They drew weapons, moving silently in a practiced formation. Each step calculated, overlapping chakra fields, ready to strike.
But something was wrong.
The seals on the walls had stopped pulsing.
Not shut down.
Just... frozen.
Like time had been caught mid-thought.
That's when they saw the spiral.
It wasn't burned.
It wasn't carved.
It was hovering.
Projected in crimson chakra mid-air like a silent eye.
And from its center...
A single chain slithered out of nothing.
And struck.
Two went down immediately.
No scream.
No chakra burst.
Just stillness.
Like the chain had stolen their ability to react before it pierced their hearts.
The remaining three scattered.
One vanished into the shadows, activating a full chakra cloak.
Another slammed his fist into the ground, activating the terrain seals.
The last one stood his ground, eyes scanning for motion.
That's when the walls moved.
Not from an explosion.
From seals unraveling.
The entire facility began deconstructing itself, piece by piece, as the seals were rewritten mid-activation.
Naruto stepped out of the distortion.
Not from the shadows.
From a fold in chakra.
He didn't rush.
Didn't speak.
His coat flowed around him — black, blood-red inside, glowing slightly from the regenerative seal lines.
Chains moved like smoke behind him, silent and precise.
His eyes — red, but not Sharingan — burned with pure focus.
The kind that didn't blink.
The kind that only men broken by the world possessed.
One of the jōnin screamed, launching a barrage of earth spears.
Naruto didn't dodge.
He walked through them.
The spears shattered against an invisible shell — a ripple of wind mixed with chakra that tore the technique apart as it got close.
He whispered, almost casually: "Fuin: Spiral Collapse."
A tiny sphere formed in his palm — a Rasengan variation, dark purple with orbiting white rings.
The rings aligned.
The air warped.
Then the earth beneath the jōnin folded inward like paper.
Gone.
The last two tried to run.
Naruto raised one finger.
Chains struck both from above — impaling shoulders without killing.
Dragging them back into the open.
He stood over them like a god that forgot how to feel.
"You… what do you want?!" one screamed.
Naruto said nothing.
He raised one hand, and a seal circle formed beneath their bodies.
Runes written in Uzumaki bloodlinescript — forbidden, extinct.
It began to glow.
Slowly.
Beautifully.
Like it wasn't a curse at all — just an old language remembering how to speak.
Then he whispered:
"Balance."
And the seals activated.
They didn't die in agony.
They didn't scream.
They just… unraveled.
When the Tsuchikage got the report, there was no anger.
Only dread.
The base was gone.
Not destroyed.
Just… absent.
As if it had never existed.
And on the mountain overlooking it, burned into black stone:
A spiral.
Not a message.
Not a threat.
Just a reminder.
Ghosts don't bleed.
But if you listen closely...
They still breathe.