[Current Balance: 11,889,052,129 R]
---
The oppressive, storm-wracked air of the Serpent's Teeth vanished in an instant.
One moment, Alaric stood on the black sand of the desolate atoll, the scent of sulfur and rain heavy around him. The next, the world twisted, space folding in on itself, and he was back in the familiar, cramped confines of the small room at the posada in Manila.
The Hiraishin teleportation was flawless, instantaneous. The sudden transition, however, coupled with the days of non-stop travel and the intense, if brief, confrontation with the island tribe, finally hit him.
A wave of exhaustion, deep and profound, washed over him. It wasn't just physical; it was mental, emotional. He stumbled towards the simple cot, his legs feeling heavy as lead, and collapsed onto the thin mattress without even bothering to remove his boots or crimson coat.
The world outside the grimy window faded into a distant murmur.
He was just so tired.
His mind, however, refused to quiet down immediately. It drifted, untethered, through the events of the past weeks, months, years.
He saw Caroline's face, not as the determined, Apple-corrupted woman the chieftain described, but as the young, hopeful girl from Bristol, her eyes full of simple dreams. The thought of her, alone on the other side of the world, wielding a power that could twist her into a monster… it was a cold weight in his chest.
His thoughts then shifted to Pennsylvania, to the sprawling green grounds of Pennsbury Manor. He saw his family, their faces a mixture of pride and worry as they waved him off. His mother, Eleanor, her health miraculously restored, yet her eyes still holding that maternal fear for his safety. His father, Leonard, standing straight and tall, a quiet strength in his gaze that hadn't been there in his weary farmer days. Bernard and Linette, Reuben and Flavia, Thulani… his strange, sprawling, fiercely loyal family. He had left them to chase a ghost, and the distance felt immense.
And then, his mind settled on Kassandra.
He saw her standing in the Isu cavern, her amber eyes soft with an understanding that spanned millennia. He felt the warmth of her hand in his, the electric thrill of their sparring matches, the raw, consuming passion of their nights together. He remembered her shy nervousness about meeting his parents, a vulnerability that had melted his heart.
He thought of their potential child. A son with his eyes and her strength? A daughter with her fierce spirit and his infuriating smirk? The thought brought a genuine, weary smile to his face. For the first time, the idea of the future, of a legacy beyond wealth and power, felt real, tangible. It was a future he had to get back to.
With that final, comforting thought, Alaric finally let go. The world dissolved, and he sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He woke with a start.
The room was pitch black, the sounds of the city outside muted to a low, distant hum. He had no idea what time it was. His body felt stiff, but the profound exhaustion was gone, replaced by a gnawing hunger.
He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the cot. He mentally opened the System interface.
[Buy: Akimichi Barbeque - 1 R]
[Total Deduction: - 1 R] [Current Balance: 11,888,529,928 R]
A large, steaming skewer of perfectly grilled, savory meat materialized in his hand. The rich aroma filled the small room instantly. He ate it quickly, the familiar, delicious taste a small comfort in the darkness.
After finishing the last bite, he stood up and stretched, his joints popping. He felt grimy, the sweat and sea salt from his journey clinging to him.
He performed a single hand sign.
Suiton: Full Bathing Jutsu.
A swirl of cool, clean water enveloped him, washing away the dirt and fatigue of his travels. In seconds, he was clean, refreshed, the water dissipating into harmless steam. He then focused on his clothes, which were damp and smelled faintly of the storm-tossed sea.
Suiton: Laundry Jutsu.
Another shimmer of chakra, and his crimson coat, white shirt, and black trousers were instantly clean and perfectly dry, as if they'd just come from a master tailor.
Feeling human again, Alaric walked to the window and peered out. The moon was high, casting silvery light on the quiet rooftops of Manila. It was the middle of the night.
He had slept for hours, his body taking the rest it desperately needed.
Now, there was no reason to wait.
He didn't bother with the door. He slid the window open silently, slipped out onto the narrow ledge, and pulled himself up onto the roof of the posada. He stood there for a moment, a dark figure against the moonlit sky, taking one last look at the Spanish colonial city.
Then, he turned his gaze north, towards the vast, dark ocean.
Japan.
He activated the flight seals on his arms, a faint shimmer of chakra briefly outlining his form. With a silent push of will, he rose into the night sky, ascending quickly until the city was just a small cluster of sleeping lights below.
He oriented himself by the stars, a skill now as natural as breathing, and then shot forward, a silent, crimson-streaked shadow gliding effortlessly through the heavens, leaving the Philippines and its lingering ghosts far behind.
The journey north was different from the one across the Pacific. He flew over scattered islands, the dark shapes of Taiwan and the Ryukyu chain passing beneath him like sleeping beasts. The constellations shifted, changing as he moved into a different hemisphere.
He flew for what felt like two more days. He didn't stop, didn't rest. His destination was fixed in his mind.
Finally, he saw it.
The coastline of Kyushu, the southernmost of Japan's main islands. He descended as dawn was breaking, the rising sun painting the sky in shades of fiery orange and soft violet. He landed in a dense, ancient forest of towering cedar and pine trees, miles away from any visible settlement. The air here was cool, crisp, and clean.
[System Currency Updated]
[Real Converted to Japanese Ryō, Mon, and Shu...]
[Conversion Fee: - 1 R]
[Current Balance: 11,888,529,927 R = 4,755,411,970,800 Mon]
Alaric found a stream, its water crystal clear, and knelt to drink. The forest was alive with sounds he didn't recognize… the calls of unfamiliar birds, the rustle of unseen animals in the undergrowth.
He was in the Hermit Kingdom.
He knew that simply walking into a town would be foolish. Foreigners were, with very few exceptions, forbidden on pain of death. His appearance, no matter how he disguised it, would be an immediate red flag.
His first target was Nagasaki. It was the only port in the entire country officially open to limited foreign trade, specifically the Dutch and Chinese. If Caroline had arrived by sea, it would have been through there. It was the most logical place to start looking for whispers of a strange gaijin woman with a powerful artifact.
He took to the skies again, but flew low this time, skimming just above the treetops, a fleeting shadow moving across the mountainous landscape. After several hours, he saw the distinctive shape of Nagasaki Bay.
He landed in another secluded forest on the outskirts of the city and took a moment to observe. The city was a fascinating blend of traditional Japanese architecture—wooden houses with elegant, curved roofs, temples with intricate carvings, and imposing castle walls—and a small, self-contained, artificial island in the bay: Dejima, the Dutch trading post.
He needed a new disguise.
The Henge activated, and the tall, platinum-blonde man in the crimson coat vanished. In his place stood a man of average height, with the weathered face, dark hair, and simple, functional clothing of a Japanese fisherman or a low-ranking ashigaru foot soldier.
He walked into Nagasaki.
The city was a different world. The people, in their kimonos and wooden geta sandals that clacked on the stone paths, moved with a different rhythm, a different kind of purpose than the bustling crowds of Europe or the Caribbean. Samurai, with their two swords tucked into their obi sashes, walked with an air of quiet authority, their gazes missing nothing.
He had the language, but the culture, the etiquette, the unspoken rules of this society… they were a minefield. One wrong step, one misplaced word, and he would draw the suspicion of the Shogun's ever-watchful agents.
The hunt for Caroline had entered its most dangerous and complicated stage yet.
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