WebNovels

Chapter 1 - Prologue

(Note: Lucifer Morningstar in DC lore is the son of the Presence (Yahweh, God)

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Prologue: The Unseen Morning Star 

The Funeral of a Hokage

The sky over Konohagakure was a deep, mournful gray, as if the heavens themselves grieved the loss of the Third Hokage. A gentle drizzle fell upon the gathered mourners, their silence a heavy weight upon the village. The smell of damp earth and incense mixed with the scent of freshly cut white lilies adorning the memorial site. 

Sarutobi Hiruzen had been more than a leader; he had been a father to the village, the guiding hand that shaped generations of shinobi. Now, he was gone, his life given in service to his home, using the Reaper Death Seal to contain the beast that had ravaged the village. His wife, Biwako, was laid rest next to him.

Tsunade stood with Shizune beside her, hands clenched into fists. She had seen too many funerals, too many great shinobi reduced to mere names on a stone. She would never return again, Konoha had taken enough from her. 

The Elders, Danzo, Homura, and Koharu, stood solemnly, though only one among them mourned in truth. Danzo's lone eye flickered to Minato, watching, calculating. 

The Aburame, cloaked in their high collars and dark shades, remained unreadable as always. The Nara stood beside them, Shikaku offering a rare frown, the easygoing demeanor of his clan absent on this sorrowful day. The Hyūga clan stood rigidly, Hiashi's expression unreadable as he held his infant daughter, Hinata, in his arms. 

The Uchiha were present as well, Fugaku and Mikoto standing with their sons, Itachi and baby Sasuke.

Asuma Sarutobi stood among the mourners, his jaw clenched tightly. His sibling, a woman of strong yet grieving presence, held onto her spouse's hand. The Yamanaka, Akimichi, and Inuzuka clans stood together, their faces grim, their losses personal. 

Kakashi stood near Gai, Kurenai at his side, their generation now stepping into the roles left vacant by the fallen. 

At the front of the crowd, Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage, stood with his family. His arm was wrapped around Kushina, who held their newborn twins, Menma and Nanako, swaddled in blankets. A one-year-old Naruto held by Jiraiya, wide cerulean eyes staring at the caskets as if trying to understand what death truly meant. 

When the eulogies ended, and the fires of remembrance were lit, the wind carried the lingering scent of ash through the village. A new era had begun. 

The Years of Love and Change

At first, Naruto was loved no differently than his siblings. Minato and Kushina were doting parents, and their home was filled with warmth. The village adored the young Namikaze children, especially Naruto, the eldest son of the Fourth. 

But everything changed when Jiraiya arrived with a prophecy. 

One of the Hokage's children would be the prophesied savior, the one destined to protect the world from a great calamity. And Jiraiya, in all his wisdom, had a hunch. 

"It's got to be one of the twins,"" he had said over dinner, his voice carrying the weight of conviction. 

Kushina had stiffened. Minato had frowned. 

Naruto had simply continued eating. 

In the years that followed, that moment became the unspoken truth that governed their household. 

By the time Naruto was five, and Menma and Nanako were four, training had begun in earnest. Minato, Kushina, and Jiraiya dedicated themselves to teaching the twins the way of the shinobi, nurturing their chakra, helping them unlock the power within. 

Naruto was never explicitly excluded. He simply wasn't needed. 

The villagers, too, turned their focus to the twins. The Jinchūriki children, the future saviors. Shrines were built in their honor. Their birthdays became village-wide celebrations. They were the center of everything. 

Naruto? He was acknowledged, yes. But as time passed, he became little more than a footnote in the grand legend being written. 

And yet, he was not bitter. 

If anything, he found it amusing. 

The Unseen King

Unlike most children who would have craved attention, Naruto was oddly indifferent. 

He enjoyed his quiet solitude. The house was often filled with noise,the sounds of training, Minato's praise, Kushina's laughter, but Naruto wandered through it all like a ghost, untouched and unseen. 

At night, while his siblings dreamt of glory and destiny, Naruto had different dreams. 

Visions of things beyond his understanding. 

A kid(Gaara) being attacked by masked ninja.

A mountain where monks meditated upon the nature of existence. 

A forest where a child was abandoned by his clan, left to rot among the roots. 

Naruto saw the world not as it was told to him, but as it truly was. He understood things no five-year-old should. He could feel the shifting tides of fate, hear the whispers of power that lurked beneath the surface of reality. 

He never questioned why. 

One night, as he stood in the courtyard of their home, watching the stars, he spoke aloud to the empty air. 

"What a pathetic joke."

He did not know why he had said it. But he knew it was true. 

The world, his family, their so-called 'prophecies', it was all a farce. 

A divine comedy played out by fools. 

As time passed, Naruto remained the forgotten son of the Hokage. 

But the village did not notice the way the shadows bent in his presence. 

They did not see the way the candlelight flickered when he walked by. 

They did not feel the weight of something vast, something ancient, stirring within his soul. 

They had neglected him. 

And he had never cared. 

Because the truth was simple. 

They were nothing more than pieces on a board, playing the roles the gods assigned them.

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