Searching through the fragments Artoria had mentioned, Itachi soon found himself immersed in a vivid memory.
It was dusk. The glow of a campfire flickered against the fading light.
A girl—nearly identical to the woman now before him, with the same tuft of hair standing atop her head—was swinging a longsword with relentless focus. Her eyes were unwavering, her sweat falling like rain upon the dirt below.
Not far away, a white-haired man holding a staff watched her with a satisfied smile.
"Lady Artoria," he said warmly, "that's enough sword training for today. Let's move on to the study of mana."
Mana—a type of energy akin to chakra, formed by combining spiritual and physical energy.
But the ratio was different: mana leaned toward the spiritual, while chakra maintained a more balanced composition.
"There it is—the method of mental defense."
Soon, Itachi saw the magician named Merlin teaching Artoria how to wield mana.
Contrary to what he expected, mental defense wasn't achieved by using mana itself to erect barriers within the mind.
Rather, it was the act of shaping one's spiritual energy to protect one's consciousness from intrusion—a simpler, more intuitive method.
Since chakra and mana differed in ratio and nature, their application varied as well.
But if it relied purely on spiritual energy, that was something Itachi was already familiar with.
Without hesitation, he focused his mind and guided his spiritual energy inward, constructing a layer of protection around his thoughts.
Artoria, who had been quietly observing, widened her eyes in mild surprise.
This child… learned it after seeing it only once?
Even she had needed Merlin's guidance the first time—though she too had learned quickly.
Then again, her own blood carried the power of dragons—creatures innately attuned to all forms of energy, born with divine sensitivity.
"Thank you very much for your instruction."
Within moments, Itachi had successfully established his mental defense and, ever polite, expressed his gratitude to Artoria.
The technique fascinated him—it was new, elegant, and powerful. But more than that, he understood its value.
"There's no need to thank me," Artoria replied evenly. "I simply think it's improper to pry into the mind of a child without consent."
She paused briefly, her eyes softening. "Though, you are no ordinary child."
His memories, his demeanor, his composure—everything about this boy intrigued her.
"Whatever the reason for our connection," she continued, "if I'm unable to leave your side for now…"
Itachi rose to his feet and bowed respectfully. "Then please guide me as much as you can until that time comes."
Though still young, a quiet resolve shone in his eyes.
He didn't understand why this had happened—but deep down, he welcomed it.
Now that he'd mastered mental defense from the knowledge in his inherited memories, he realized just how precious those memories were.
And with the legendary King of Knights at his side, perhaps… he could begin to find answers.
Answers about this war— and about the meaning of life itself.
---
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Under the night sky, the wind howled and the rustling of leaves gave way to the sharp hiss of movement.
In the forests along the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth, shadows darted like panthers through the branches, illuminated faintly by the moonlight.
Each figure moved with precision and discipline. Their formation was tight, their rhythm synchronized—clearly trained to anticipate ambushes at any moment.
Among them was Uchiha Itachi.
Due to his age and physical limits, he trailed at the very rear of the unit.
He was, after all, just a child—too young to attend even the Ninja Academy. Unless the entire frontline collapsed, he would not be allowed to fight.
"Such a well-trained squad…"
Artoria's voice echoed in his mind, tinged with quiet admiration.
"If Britannia had possessed soldiers of this caliber, perhaps it would never have fallen."
She seemed genuinely impressed. "It's astonishing that everyone here wields mana—ah, I mean… chakra."
"In my world, only a handful of gifted individuals were ever able to form mana circuits within their bodies."
Her comment made Itachi frown slightly.
Even after everything she'd been through… did she still yearn for battle?
He couldn't understand it. How could anyone long for war? To him, war was chaos—senseless and cruel.
Suppressing his discomfort, he answered calmly,
"Chakra is the fusion of physical and spiritual energy, yes—but many people fail before even reaching that point.
Some can't endure the strain of harmonizing those two forces. Others lack the control to refine it efficiently.
Only those with the necessary aptitude can truly become shinobi."
"These are things I learned from our village's books on human and natural studies," he added pointedly. "I assume, Your Majesty, that you didn't focus much on those particular memories."
Artoria nodded slightly. "I only grasped the basic structure of your world—the way its military, economy, and power systems function. I haven't yet examined the details."
Her first concern was military affairs.
Itachi caught that detail immediately.
"Your Majesty seems quite… invested in matters of war," he said carefully. "Is there a particular reason for that?"
From a young age, he'd been taught to conceal his true thoughts—to observe, not reveal.
Even when speaking with his father, he always held something back.
"...Invested in war?"
Trailing behind him like a guardian spirit, Artoria tilted her head in genuine confusion.
The small tuft of hair on her head swayed as she moved. "Do you mean… that I enjoy war?"
She didn't understand the question.
And with Itachi's mental defenses now in place, she could no longer read his inner emotions.
To her, his barrier was crude and simple—but as a king, she had no interest in peering into someone's mind without permission.
"I meant…" Itachi began, choosing his words with care, trying to mask his curiosity behind politeness.
But before he could continue—
Artoria's tone shifted sharply. Her voice turned cold.
"Be careful!"
The moment her words struck his mind, Itachi's body moved on instinct—dropping low in mid-leap.
Whish!
A dark blur sliced past his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
Thunk!
A dull thud followed, as a kunai buried itself deep into a tree trunk.
Landing lightly, Itachi pivoted aside, scanning the darkness.
From ahead came the composed voice of Uchiha Tera, the squad's captain.
"Everyone, stay alert! We're under ambush—enemy Iwa-nin!"
Iwa-nin?
Before he could process, a shadow appeared beside him.
"Itachi, stay close to me."
It was his father—Uchiha Fugaku.
In the faint moonlight, his eyes glowed scarlet—three tomoe revolving calmly within.
The Sharingan.
Fugaku surveyed the forest with chilling precision.
"There are many of them. Our formation's been split.
Our logistics unit only has a few Chunin and Genin, so there's no need to worry—stay behind me."
"As for the main force ahead," he continued evenly, "Tera's command is solid. With him leading, this ambush won't last long."
Indeed, Fugaku himself was part of the logistics group.
He hadn't been ordered to the frontlines, but he'd chosen to come—so that his son could witness war firsthand.
To teach him not with words—but with experience.