The battlefield was imaginary.
But the destruction was real.
Naruto stood in the middle of a sealed training field — a simulated terrain dome constructed from Uzushio's ancient war seals, replicating terrain, resistance, wind pressure, and chakra variance. Nothing else remained of the shrine it had once been — he had destroyed the upper levels months ago during a failed elemental fusion.
Now, he was here to complete it.
The Rasengringu hovered at his side — five layers in total.
Each ring pulsated with a different chakra nature, rotating in opposite directions, counterbalancing themselves perfectly. This version was no longer simply devastating.
It was intelligent.
The core read battlefield variables.
The outer rings adapted elemental resistance.
And at the center — a drop of Naruto's Yin-Yang compressed chakra, bound with Kurama's chakra to ensure that no one could ever copy it.
Kurama murmured in awe.
"That thing isn't a technique. It's a decision."
Naruto nodded.
And then launched it into the simulation.
The sky tore.
Not cracked.
Tore — like a scroll ripped from edge to edge.
The simulation didn't react. It shut down.
The training dome's seals overloaded, cancelling themselves before the entire structure collapsed.
Naruto stood in the silence that followed.
For a long time.
Then turned, writing new runes onto the wall with his fingertip.
One word:
Final.
The next days were spent not building, but refining.
Naruto rewrote the Rasengringu's structure to allow chakra-mode convergence: combining the new jutsu with Sage Mode and Kurama's chakra at once.
The result?
Not a larger explosion.
But silence.
A form of chakra implosion that consumed energy without making sound.
The kind of jutsu that ended wars without witnesses.
Kurama voiced what Naruto had begun to understand:
"They won't know what hit them. Literally."
Naruto responded, "Good."
He also began constructing countermeasures.
For the first time in months, he started imagining enemies again.
Not just Danzo.
Not Kakashi.
Not Sasuke.
But Kages.
Biju-level threats.
Even Madara.
And so he began crafting a system.
A flex jutsu arsenal designed to deploy in sets — depending on what he was facing.
Against tailed beasts: Sealing arrays woven into midair symbols, activating upon impact.
Against dojutsu users: Chakra flare bursts designed to short Genjutsu windows by over-saturating the opponent's senses.
Against Uchiha: Smoke crafted from Yin Chakra and infused with chakra-laced metal powder — immune to Amaterasu, able to disrupt visual line of sight.
He wasn't just building tools.
He was building a doctrine.
Three days later, he stood atop the mountain ridge above Uzushio's deepest chasm.
A cliff never mapped.
Never marked.
It was once called "The Teeth of the God."
No one knew why.
Now, it was where Naruto burned his last scroll.
The final Uzumaki War Tome.
He didn't need it anymore.
Everything in it lived inside him now.
And whatever came next?
Would be written in blood.
Not ink.
When he descended the mountain, he didn't carry anything.
No scrolls.
No supplies.
No identity.
Just a single seal embedded in his wrist.
And a whisper in the wind from the surrounding nations.
They had begun hearing about him again.
A shadow that stole scrolls.
A red-haired ghost who floated through Mist, Sand, and Stone — not attacking.
Just watching.
Just measuring.
The stories called him many names.
But the most popular...
Was still the oldest one.
The Chain Ghost.