Chapter 6: Emperor in the Mist
The journey from the Land of Waves was cloaked in an unsettling quiet. Before they departed, he had turned his attention to his newly resurrected companions.
"The Demon of the Mist is far to well known," he had stated, his purple eyes assessing them. "For our purposes, a new face is required. A new soul, projected outward."
With a touch, he invoked his Soul Magic. It wasn't a simple Henge; it was a deeper, more fundamental alteration of their perceived spiritual essence. Zabuza's rugged, scarred features softened and sharpened into the arrogant, handsome visage of a man with a cross-shaped mark on his forehead. Haku's gentle femininity was twisted into something more feral and manic, an eyepatch appearing over her left eye. They were no longer Zabuza and Haku. They were Dante and Vanica, echoes of a family Naruto now commanded. He, in turn, reassumed the regal form of Julius Novachrono, his blond hair and red robe a stark contrast to the grim purpose that drove them toward Kirigakure.
The air in the Raikage's office was thick enough to choke on. The silence was absolute, broken only by the ragged breathing of the twenty survivors of the Serenity incursion. A, the Fourth Raikage, sat behind his desk, his massive arms crossed, his face a thundercloud of disbelief and simmering rage.
Darui stood before him, his report delivered. He recounted his own battle with the original Julius: the effortless control over gravity, the bone projectiles that bypassed his defenses, the monstrous physical resilience, and the final, humiliating defeat. The twenty survivors then gave their own chilling testimony, a fragmented, terrified chorus describing the clone. They spoke of time freezing, of a forest of bone erupting from the ground, of whips of blood that defied logic, and of a serene, smiling monster who dismantled two hundred elite shinobi as if it were a casual exercise.
Mabui's face was ashen. She meticulously recorded every detail, her pen scratching against the parchment, the sound unnaturally loud in the tense room. "Control over gravity, time, bone, and blood… four distinct abilities, all seemingly Kekkei Genkai or higher, wielded by a single man and his duplicate," she summarized, her voice strained. "This is… unprecedented."
Cee, his sensory perception still reeling from the residual fear clinging to the survivors, shook his head. "More than that, Mabui. Darui fought the original, and he didn't even witness the Time Magic,. The clone alone displayed power that would put it on par with a Kage. The true scope of this man's power is completely unknown."
"Weakness…" A growled, his knuckles white. "Every jutsu, every technique, has a weakness. A tell. A cost."
"What is the cost, Boss?" Darui asked, his voice flat. "He showed no signs of fatigue. He used no hand signs. His defenses are absolute, and his offense is multifaceted. He fought me as if he were… observing a specimen. We aren't dealing with a simple powerhouse. We're dealing with a natural disaster in human form."
The Raikage slammed his fist on the desk, though with less force than before. The fury was still there, but now it was laced with a venomous frustration. "So what are you suggesting, Darui? That we bow? That we send a letter of apology for the deaths of our own men and offer tribute to this… Emperor?" The title was spat like a curse.
Before Darui could answer, he walked over to Cee, lowering his voice to a whisper only the sensor could hear. "Cee, something else. The survivors… a few of them mentioned something strange. Just before they were knocked out, they heard his voice inside their heads. A command, a… suggestion. Check them. Every last one of them. A deep-level genjutsu, maybe?"
Cee's eyes widened slightly. He closed his own, his senses expanding, meticulously sweeping over the twenty shinobi standing in the room. He probed their chakra networks, their minds, searching for any foreign influence, any illusionary construct, any sign of tampering. After a long, tense moment, he looked back at Darui, his expression deeply troubled.
"There's nothing," he whispered back, his voice strained with confusion. "No genjutsu. Their chakra flow is perfectly normal. It's… clean. Too clean, almost. But there is no illusion to break."
Darui's blood ran cold. Not genjutsu. Something else. Something worse. He returned to his position, the weight of this new, unseen threat settling upon him.
"War against the Land of Serenity would be devastatingly costly, Raikage-sama," Mabui stated, her voice firm despite the situation. "In lives, resources, and morale. We would be fighting an enemy whose limits we cannot even guess."
"Every technique has a weakness," A repeated, his voice a low growl of stubborn pride. "If he controls gravity, we become faster and stronger than gravity. If he uses bone, we shatter it. If he freezes time, we find a way to move outside of it! We are Kumogakure! We do not bend! We do not break! And I will never bow to that blond-haired charlatan and his 'empire'!" His will was absolute, an immovable object against an unstoppable force.
The mist of Kirigakure was thick and oppressive, clinging to the trio as they approached the towering gates. It tasted of salt and sorrow. The guards, their faces grim and hidden behind masks, immediately raised their weapons.
"Halt! State your business in the Village Hidden in the Mist."
Julius stepped forward, his red robe a splash of defiant color against the monochromatic grey. He offered a polite, disarming smile. "My sincerest apologies for the unannounced visit," he said, his voice carrying a regal calm. "I am Julius Novachrono, Emperor of the Land of Serenity. My companions, Dante and Vanica."
The guards exchanged wary glances. The name had reached even this isolated nation. The man who conquered the demons. "What does the Emperor of Serenity want in Kirigakure?" one demanded, his grip tightening on his spear.
"I have heard troubling tales of rebel forces causing strife within your great nation," Julius explained, his tone one of earnest concern. "As a fellow leader who values order and stability above all else, I have come to lend the esteemed Mizukage, Yagura-Dono, my aid in vanquishing these disruptive elements. A gesture of goodwill, to establish friendly relations between our lands. Please, relay my offer to him."
The guards were taken aback. An offer of aid? Unsolicited? It was unheard of. One of them, clearly skeptical but unwilling to dismiss a figure of such renown, nodded curtly and vanished into the mist. After a tense, silent wait, the guard returned.
"Yagura-sama has agreed to grant you an audience. Follow me."
Julius offered a gracious nod. "My thanks."
They were escorted through the village, and as they walked, Naruto's senses,, took everything in. He could feel it beneath the surface of the village – the simmering fear, the paranoia, the deep-seated hatred. The very air felt sick with the blood of the innocent, a result of the ongoing Bloodline Purges. His Julius persona saw a tragedy, a village in need of healing. His Lucius core saw a festering wound, a flawed system ripe for demolition and reconstruction.
This place yearns for a true savior, he thought, a grandiose ambition stirring within him. It cries out for a firm, just hand to purge its sickness and guide it into an era of true, unblemished peace. It cries out for its future lord.
The audience with Yagura Karatachi, the Fourth Mizukage, was held in a stark, intimidating chamber. The boyish-looking Kage sat upon his chair, a staff n hand, his pink eyes holding a flat, unnerving emptiness.
The moment Julius laid eyes on him, he knew. He could feel it with the subtle, soul-perceiving senses granted to him by his new power. A faint, yet undeniable, web of foreign chakra was woven deep into the fabric of Yagura's mind, puppeteering his thoughts and actions. The rumors were true. The Mizukage wasn't ruling his village; he was a puppet, dancing on strings pulled by an unknown master.
A genjutsu, Naruto deduced with cold certainty. Long-term, incredibly powerful, and flawlessly maintained. Someone is controlling him from the shadows. Another flaw in this world's leadership... a king who is not a king. This only solidified his conviction. Kiri didn't just need a new leader; it needed to be purged of a hidden corruption he hadn't even anticipated.
"You have come a long way, Emperor Julius," Yagura said, his voice monotone, lacking any true will. "Why would you offer to help me exterminate the rebels? Your nation has no stake in our internal affairs."
"A stable world is a prosperous world, Lord Mizukage," Julius replied smoothly, his tone never betraying his discovery. "A rebellion in one nation can inspire dissent in another. By helping you secure your reign, I secure the principle of order. I simply wish to establish a formal relationship between our nations, built on a foundation of mutual support and strength."
Yagura stared at him for a long moment, his empty eyes seeming to search for deceit, though the mind behind them was likely incapable of true suspicion. "Your strength is renowned. Very well. Your assistance will be… accepted. You will help us crush the next pocket of resistance. Prove your sincerity, and we will discuss this 'relationship' further."
Later, escorted to a high-end, yet still dreary hotel, the three of them stood in their suite, the sounds of the miserable village muffled below. The oppressive mist curled against the windowpanes.
Zabuza, now "Dante," turned to him, his voice a low grumble, though his lips didn't move – a basic shinobi trick for silent communication. "So, when do we strike?"
Julius stood by the window, gazing out at the village that was already his in his mind. He didn't turn.
"Tomorrow," his voice echoed back in their minds, calm, patient, and absolute. "Tomorrow, the 'rebel hunt' begins. And with it, the liberation of Kirigakure."