The summoning card burned away in my hand, dissolving into motes of light that spiraled upward.
The world responded.
Space warped in front of me, folding inward like a mirror being shattered and reforged at the same time. Symbols—alien, arcane, and unfamiliar—briefly flared in the air, overlapping systems of power from countless universes clashing and stabilizing.
I watched calmly.
Whatever emerged would be mine.
The vortex expanded, images flashing rapidly within it.
A boy wizard raising a wand.A blond ninja forming a seal.A sorcerer wielding dragon magic.A girl with glowing glyphs.A smiling triangle watching from nowhere.
The wheel slowed.
Then stopped.
The air snapped back into place.
A man stood before me.
Tall. Lean. Dressed in dark robes marked with red clouds. Long black hair framed a pale, emotionless face. His eyes—deep crimson, patterned with tomoe—lifted for only a fraction of a second before he stepped forward.
Then he dropped to one knee.
Head bowed.
"召喚に応じました," he said calmly.
I didn't need translation to understand the meaning.
The system confirmed it immediately.
SUMMON SUCCESSFULENTITY: ITACHI UCHIHASTATUS: ABSOLUTE LOYALTYNOTE: Personality and free will intact.RELATIONSHIP: Lord–Retainer Bond Established
Itachi remained kneeling, unmoving, composed as stone.
"I am Itachi Uchiha," he said quietly. "If you are my master… then my blade, my mind, and my life are yours."
There was no fanaticism in his voice.
Only certainty.
I studied him carefully. This was not a mindless servant. This was a man shaped by tragedy, discipline, and unbearable resolve. The system hadn't stripped him of who he was—it had redirected his loyalty.
Good.
"I don't need your life," I said. "I need your skill."
His head lifted slightly. Interest flickered in his eyes.
"You will teach me," I continued. "Not chakra. I don't have it. Weapons. Movement. How to kill efficiently without relying on supernatural energy."
A pause.
Then Itachi inclined his head.
"As you command."
Training began the very next day.
We found a secluded region—mountains, forests, stone ruins left behind by civilizations that had already begun to fade from memory. No witnesses. No distractions.
Itachi did not coddle me.
He corrected my stance without words. Knocked my legs out from under me when my balance was off. Stripped weapons from my hands in the blink of an eye if my grip was wrong.
"You think too much," he said once, disarming me with a single motion. "Combat is decision under pressure. Your body must answer before your mind hesitates."
Normally, that would have taken years to internalize.
But I wasn't normal.
The Master Battle Instincts talent worked constantly in the background. Every correction Itachi made etched itself into me permanently. Patterns repeated themselves. Movements aligned. Where most students learned through repetition, I learned through understanding.
Kunai came first.
Grip. Throwing arcs. Killing angles. Distraction patterns.
Then shuriken—controlling multiple trajectories, feints layered within feints.
Swordsmanship followed. Not elegant. Not flashy. Practical. Brutal. Every movement designed to end a fight quickly.
Taijutsu was the hardest.
Uchiha-style close combat was efficient, aggressive, and merciless. It relied on precision strikes, joint breaks, and exploiting openings measured in fractions of a second.
I was thrown to the ground more times than I could count.
But I always got back up.
Weeks turned into months.
By the end of the second month, Itachi no longer corrected my basics.
Instead, he tested me.
Silent sparring at dawn. Sudden ambushes in the forest. Fighting blindfolded. Fighting while exhausted. Fighting while injured.
I was not at his level.
I never would be.
But I had reached something else—competence that could survive a battlefield.
One evening, after a long session, Itachi sheathed his blade and looked at me with quiet assessment.
"You learn too quickly," he said. "Even without chakra, your instincts are… abnormal."
"That's good," I replied calmly. "Because this world isn't kind to the weak."
He studied me for a moment longer.
Then spoke words that mattered far more than praise.
"If you intend to build an organization," he said, "you will need more than power. You will need discipline. Secrecy. Symbols."
I smiled faintly.
"I know."
My gaze drifted to the ten rings on my fingers, glowing faintly in the twilight.
"This is only the foundation."
The Mandarin did not begin as a tyrant.
She began as a student.