Black Zetsu returned to the cave at dusk, moving like ink across stone. He slithered in, more pieces of himself trailing behind—fine filaments that would become White Zetsu once they absorbed enough biomass. He bowed once, the motion both servile and strangely elegant.
"Report," I said. My voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of command. Years of Indra's arrogance and Hagoromo's patience had taught me to value information above all else.
Black Zetsu's amber eyes flickered. "I have split, master. The first White Zetsu has formed. It is loyal and learning." He paused, and a ripple of static traveled through the cave—his way of saying he'd integrated into the land. "I have also traced the timeline."
A small thrill ran along my spine. "Speak."
"Seven years before your current present," he said plainly. "Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth are on the move. They are not yet widely known. The rift that will become the spark is still small—simmering. Camp Half-Blood's defenses are lesser than their later strength."
I let that settle like a stone dropped into still water. Seven years. Far enough to matter, close enough to shape. The world unfolded quickly in my mind: prophecies, loyalties, loyalties that would shift, the war that would boil over and drown everything in its path.
My chest tightened—not with fear, but with possibility.
Joining them could be useful, I thought. Thalia's fire. Luke's fury. Annabeth's mind. A mentor figure could steer them subtly, seed ideas, watch the war's blueprint as it built itself. I could be close enough to see the strings and keep my hands clean.
But another voice—older, colder—cut through. If I stop it, I change everything. Indra's memories whispered the inevitability of cycles. Power begets power. Attempts to halt history often bend fate, not erase it. Kill Luke, stop one chain, and another will sprout. The war isn't a single spark—it's a tinderbox of pride, ancient grudges, demigod ambition, and gods who don't always learn.
The conclusion came as clean and ruthless as a blade.I will not stop it. I will let it happen.
If the war must come, I would watch it burn and learn from the flames. Knowledge gleaned in war is rarer, purer, and more useful than peace-time secrets. Besides—if I allowed the sequence to play out, I could place myself where it benefited me most. I could be the mentor, the shadow behind decisions, the hand that tipped the scale when necessary. Preventing the war could cost me everything I intended to gain: experience, the trial by fire, the map of alliances that only war reveals.
"Let him start it," I said quietly, my eyes cooling. "Let Luke begin the war. I will be there to study the conflict, not stop it. I'll place myself near those three—guide them subtly, learn their weaknesses, and use them if necessary."
Black Zetsu's form shimmered. "And your plan to join them?"
I smiled briefly, the expression almost preternatural against the exhaustion still holding me. "Yes. A mentor. Perhaps a wanderingtrainer—someone versed in strange arts from foreign lands. I'll approach them carefully. Not too close; not too obvious. The gods don't like surprises." I paused, thinking of Zeus and his lightning, of Olympus's paranoia. Especially that.
My thoughts turned practical. "Expand the network. Send White Zetsu to watch Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth. Scout Camp Half-Blood—learn their patrols, their leaders, their prophecies. Find the nodes of power: who speaks to the gods, who whispers to monsters, who sleeps with power undisturbed."
Black Zetsu bowed again. "It will be done. The web grows."
Kurama's amusement echoed in my skull, warm and dry. You play a long game, child of Zeus. Smart. Don't let arrogance lead you to test gods prematurely.
I won't, I thought, but inside the thought was a sharpened edge of arrogance—the kind Indra loved and Hagoromo feared. I will let them build the war. I will watch. I will learn. And when the right moment comes, I will shape the outcome so it benefits me most.
I stood and moved to the cave mouth, looking out at the forest that separated me from the nearest human settlement. Lightning threaded the distant clouds faintly—Zeus's reminder that my blood had not been cast aside entirely. The world was young for me and old for everything else.
"Prepare," I said to Black Zetsu. "Send scouts to Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth. Embed in the traders and fishermen around that village a dozen subtle eyes. Learn the routes to Camp Half-Blood. Find out who's friendly to the gods and who's made bargains with monsters."
His response was immediate, a ripple of motion as he slid back into the night, leaving a residue of black tendrils that would root into the earth and pull up secrets like roots drinking water.
I settled back on the stone, letting exhaustion and adrenaline tangle in my limbs. Strategy had always been my anchor. The world yielded to those who understood the shape of time and used it.
Seven years, I thought, letting the number sink in like a distance measured by steps. Seven years to watch, to learn, to weave, and to prepare.
Outside, the wind carried the distant echo of a world that had no idea a new kind of storm had just been born.
And for the first time since I'd opened my eyes in that cave, I felt the thrill of something vast and inevitable—an empire of shadows and whispers being stitched together, thread by calculated thread.
I was not merely a child of Zeus.I was a prodigal of chakra, a schemer with the blood of Indra and the mind of Itachi.
I would watch Luke light the tinder.I would watch the world burn enough to learn.And when the right moment came, I would snatch the ashes and build my throne from them.