The night sky over the ruined nation was heavy, not with stars, but with silence. The land bore scars of a destruction no shinobi technique could truly explain—deep craters, charred forests, and shattered monuments. The air itself seemed to whisper, as if the ground remembered screams that no living soul could.
Raizen walked across the broken earth, his footsteps echoing unnaturally, almost like the land was reluctant to carry him forward. Every stone, every ruin, felt tied to him.
And that was what unsettled him.
> Did I… do this?
Fragments of memory returned in flickers—his hand raised against the horizon, fire swallowing entire armies, the sound of worlds crumbling. Yet each time, the memory snapped away like a mirror breaking.
He clenched his fists. Raizen… Shibai… apostles… the decree of the Five Nations. The pieces didn't align, but the edges cut deep enough to hurt.
Suddenly, a swirl of chakra brushed his senses. Someone was here.
"Still wandering like a ghost among your own sins, Raizen?"
The voice was sharp, mocking. From the shadows of a broken pillar, a figure stepped out. Robes tattered but eyes burning crimson—like fire caught between rage and devotion. His chakra felt ancient, twisted.
Raizen's eyes narrowed. "You… you're not of the nations. Who are you?"
The man smirked. "An apostle of the forgotten god. Once, I served Shibai directly. And once… I witnessed you clash against him."
The name hit Raizen like thunder. His breath caught. "Shibai… I fought his apostle? Me?"
"Not just fought." The apostle's grin widened, cruel. "You won. But victory came at a cost. You feared what would come if the nations remembered your power. You feared betrayal. So you did what cowards do…"
The apostle's hand rose, summoning black flames that danced like serpents. "You erased it all."
Raizen froze. The weight of the accusation pressed heavier than the ruined world around him. "I—"
The ground cracked beneath his feet as his chakra surged involuntarily. Memories flickered again—him standing above leaders of the Five Nations, their voices filled with hate. Words like monster, betrayer, threat. His own hand igniting with power far beyond anything mortal.
Then, white silence.
The apostle lunged. "But you couldn't erase me, Raizen. And I will be your reminder."
Their clash shook the ruins. Raizen parried the apostle's black flame strikes, his body moving on instinct, as if remembering combat his mind could not. His chakra exploded, shaping into jagged lightning that carved through the ruins.
"Your peace is an illusion," the apostle spat. "Shibai's will lingers. His apostles are scattered, and they remember what you tried to bury!"
Raizen's fists trembled. "If Shibai is gone, then why are you still here?"
The apostle's eyes gleamed. "Because gods never die. They wait. They watch. And when mortals forget them…" His smirk deepened. "…that is when they return."
The words struck deeper than any blade. For the first time since fragments of his memory returned, Raizen felt something he hated—fear. Not of the apostle before him, but of the possibility that his erasure had not ended the threat. Perhaps it had only delayed it.
The apostle's flames flared, forming a monstrous hand of darkness. "I will burn this land again, and when I do, the truth will rise from the ashes!"
Raizen closed his eyes for a moment. Then, they snapped open, glowing with raw force—untamed, dangerous. His voice cut through the roaring battlefield like thunder.
"Then I'll bury the truth myself."
With a roar, he unleashed his chakra, the earth splitting open as lightning and wind fused, forming a storm around him. The apostle's flames collided with the storm, creating a blinding explosion that consumed the ruins.
When the smoke cleared, the apostle staggered, half his body scorched, but still grinning. "Good… good. That's the Raizen I remember. The monster hidden beneath false peace."
And then—he vanished, melting into the shadows like smoke dispersing in the wind.
Raizen stood alone again. The silence returned, but now it was heavier, as if the world itself judged him. He looked down at his trembling hands.
> Shibai's apostles survived. And if they return… so will Shibai himself.
His heart sank. The very peace he had forced upon the nations… was crumbling.
For the first time, Raizen whispered words that tasted bitter:
"…Maybe I was wrong."
The wind howled through the ruins, carrying away his voice like an omen.