High above the brooding, storm-lashed mountain ranges of Thal'zaroth, Naruto stood still as a statue. The howling winds flung salt and ash into his cloak, and the sky above boiled with streaks of violet lightning. The sea beyond churned unnaturally, as if the very waters were recoiling from something buried deep within their own depths.
Behind him stood Kakashi and Sakura, their eyes sweeping the jagged peaks and the sprawling demon cities below. But Naruto was not looking outward. His eyes were closed, and his body barely moved save for the rise and fall of his chest. His chakra pulsed in controlled waves — subtle, steady, focused — as he delved deep into the planet's energy flow, attempting something incredibly delicate in this corrupted realm.
Normally, his Sage powers gave him vision beyond the physical. They allowed him to see paths, the glimmers of future choices, the whisper of possible consequences. But here, in the shadow-drenched dimension, that ability was shrouded in chaos. The air around them was thick with false signals and twisted illusions. Everything felt like danger. The Dark Dimension had a will of its own, and it wanted him to panic. To fall into despair.
So Naruto suppressed it.
With deliberate effort, he pushed back against the suffocating fog. He anchored himself with his heartbeat, with the image of Kurama's strength, and with the warm memory of his family, his village, his world — the reason he fought. The darkness hissed and snarled, trying to claw its way into his thoughts, but he shoved it away. He wasn't searching for threats anymore. He wasn't trying to fight the darkness of this world. He was seeking clarity — a moment of silence in the storm.
Then he found it.
Like a single note of pure sound in a hurricane, he felt the presence.
His brows furrowed as he opened his eyes, their glow faint but steady. "He's close."
"Who?" Kakashi asked, voice muffled slightly by the wind.
"The one who rules this planet," Naruto said. "The son of Dagon."
He looked downward, past the veils of sea-mist and molten coral cities, and pointed toward a region where the ocean was darker than black — a wound in the sea that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"There. Beneath the dark waters… Something is waiting."
Sakura stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What did you sense?"
Naruto hesitated, then answered, "Energy… like a dying star, but inverted. Where mine is light and life… his is drowning and despair. A well of corrupted water so deep it feels like falling into death itself."
Kakashi's visible eye narrowed. "He's on the edge of immortality."
Naruto nodded slowly. "His power matches mine. And worse — it's not just his. There's a link. A thread that connects him to something far more ancient and terrifying."
"Dagon," Sakura whispered.
"The moment we strike," Naruto said, "the father will know. If we kill the son, we'll invite a nightmare beyond imagining."
"So what do we do?" Kakashi asked, his voice firm despite the gravity of the situation.
Naruto inhaled deeply and clenched his fists. "We go in fast. Find the teleportation gate. Don't fight unless absolutely necessary. We cannot afford to let the son of Dagon fall."
"And if he attacks?" Sakura asked.
Naruto's voice hardened. "We survive. We retreat. We don't escalate."
For a brief moment, none of them spoke. The wind howled around them like a living creature, but their resolve was steady.
Then Kakashi gave a rare smile, the kind that carried both warmth and warning. "Just like old times. Sneak into hell, steal the prize, and leave before it explodes."
Naruto chuckled under his breath, a small crack in the pressure. "Except this time, hell has teeth… and a father with cosmic reach."
"Wouldn't be an adventure otherwise," Sakura said with a confident grin.
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Beneath the boiling heavens of Thal'zaroth, the air trembled — not with wind or weather, but with the awakening of power ancient and absolute.
Naruto stood resolute at the edge of a jagged precipice, bathed in an ethereal glow. His golden blood shimmered as it flowed from a cut across his palm — not freely, not recklessly, but with intent. It floated upward in gleaming streams, twisting into intricate patterns as it took shape. In a breath of divine silence, it molded itself into form — and there stood his clone. Not a mere flicker of chakra like a shadow clone, but a creation of substance and divinity. It was solid, radiant, pulsing with the power of a star compressed into a man's form.
The clone wore armor of white and gold, forged by none other than Hephaestus — the immortal smith of the stars. Etched with celestial runes and adorned with glowing plates of chakra metal, it encased him like a walking sun. At its heart, the molten core of a collapsed star hummed steadily, granting it a source of near-limitless energy. The same golden armor adorned the real Naruto as well — his eyes cool and focused beneath the golden visor, his heart burning with purpose.
Beside him, Kakashi adjusted the light-blue pauldrons of his own armor. Crafted from the same divine forge, his suit emphasized speed and precision. The plates seemed to hum with suppressed lightning, a faint azure current running along the seams. At his side, the Lightning Blade — once the pride of the Second Hokage — now reforged from star-blue metal, pulsed eagerly, waiting to be unleashed.
Sakura, ever composed and strong, stood cloaked in a rose-pink aura. Her armor was refined but fierce, molded to grant immense regenerative power and brute strength. A short rose-shaped shield rested comfortably on her forearm — deceptively delicate in appearance, but more than capable of shattering steel. Four golden sash blades unfurled from her back like flower petals edged with war, swaying as if eager to taste the fury of battle.
Naruto's hands moved in a subtle twist — a spatial ripple answered. Instantly, a veil of intangibility cloaked the trio. Their energy signatures sank into the void like a pebble vanishing in a black lake. With that, the mission began.
The clone stepped forward, standing alone atop the crag like a living beacon. Its power — no longer hidden — erupted outward in a storm of fury. The heavens darkened. The mountains cracked. Waves in the distant sea surged skyward as if flung by the fist of a titan. The ground split in great canyons, and the skies wept black lightning.
And then… the sea answered.
A low, guttural sound, like the groaning of a dying world, echoed across the planet. The dark ocean churned violently. A vortex formed, stretching from the ocean floor to the stormy clouds above — and then it rose.
The Son of Dagon emerged.
He was a colossus, the embodiment of sea-bound nightmares, and more massive than entire nations. Coils upon coils of abyssal flesh slithered into the sky, glistening with corrupted water and armored in barnacle-covered plates blacker than obsidian. His wings unfurled like shipwreck sails, stretching across the clouds, and his maw — lined with thousands of razored teeth — opened to scream a soundless fury into the void. Eyes as old as despair fixed upon Naruto's clone, and in them was the madness of the deep, the hunger of a sea that had drowned immortals.
Naruto and the real team didn't wait.
With the sea dragon's gaze locked on the clone, they dived into the ocean. The water was cold, not in temperature, but in soul. It pressed in around them like liquid darkness, seeping into thoughts, whispering doubts. But their armor held strong — resisting the madness, guiding them forward.
Beneath them sprawled the capital city of Thal'zaroth — a drowned kingdom carved into abyssal cliffs and volcanic trenches. Towers made of fossilized coral and black stone rose like teeth from the ocean floor. Schools of twisted naga, warlike eel-men, and kraken sentinels drifted across its roads, patrolling with blades made of bone and tendrils of glowing ink. The city pulsed with dark energy — a place of rituals and war, where even the stones seemed alive with malice.
In the heart of it, encased in a dome of black crystal, lay the object they sought: the Gate. A construct not of this world, humming with dimensional energy. The very fabric of the sea around it warped, twisting light and time into nauseating spirals.
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In the black vault of the cosmos, where stars flickered like dying embers and time curled in upon itself, there slumbered ancient horrors born of ink and madness. And among them, ruling in the obsidian cradle of the Shadow Sea, was Zarakan — Son of Dagon.
He was not born, but risen — conjured from the mindless writhing of the dark waters that slept beneath dimensions, summoned through rites etched in blood and whispered dreams. Like his siblings, he was counted among Those Who Sleep Below — nightmare lords that drifted between the boundaries of dream and dimension, their presence a sickness upon the soul. They did not kill as mortals did. They unmade. They whispered into the sleeping minds of sailors and sorcerers, warriors and kings — and they devoured. Spirit, reason, hope — all were sustenance.
Zarakan ruled his solar system from the planetary colossus of Thal'zaroth, a molten-watered, abyssal world that pulsed with the life of ten million warring tribes. It was a throne of madness built upon the backs of creatures who could not sleep without suffering. And that was the way Zarakan preferred it.
For dreams were his dominion.
He moved not with feet, but with intent. Where his mind drifted, so too did the madness follow. The dreams of the weak were his playground, and even the strong—especially the strong—were but challenges waiting to be broken. Nightmares were a language, and Zarakan was a poet of despair.
But in recent centuries, the verse had lost its rhythm.
Ghost Rider, the fiery herald of vengeance, had scorched a path through the Dreaming Realms. Doctor Strange, that meddlesome mystic, had warded realities with spells drawn from the higher truths. And in another universe still, Doctor Fate spun golden weaves of resistance, safeguarding humanity's fragile sleep.
And worse still, one of the sealed gates — gateways to the Nightmare Realm — had been destroyed. A universe torn, its seal undone. Opportunity bloomed like rot on a forgotten corpse. The walls between realms had thinned.
Dagon, the Prime Nightmare, stirred again. His will crept through the cracks, whispering to his sons and daughters. New gates were needed. New realms were ripe for corruption. This new universe, unclaimed and unguarded, presented a rare feast. The Demon Lords had begun to circle, vultures of the void, seeking their portion.
Zarakan was no fool. He understood the cost of waiting. While his father planned and brooded from the vast abyss, the other Lords had started moving. Their servants slithered through dreams and shadows, seeking prey and position. It would not be long before one of them made a move against him — to cut his claim and take his gate.
He had no love for strategy, but the game of power demanded awareness. Now, more than ever, Zarakan stood vigilant. He prowled the oceans of his world with coils of malice so vast they reshaped the tides. The endless war between eel-kind and turtle-demons no longer amused him. He needed new madness, new prey.
And then… he felt it.
A surge in the tide of power. A ripple through the dream-web he cast across his dominion.
A golden flame had been lit. A warrior whose soul burned with fury and purpose. It did not cower or falter. It challenged. A worthy foe.
Zarakan's eyes, each the size of a cathedral, opened beneath the sea. His grin, a serrated maw of shifting voids, stretched wide.
"Ah… something new."
His monstrous form lifted from the sea like the rising of a dead moon. Shadows fled before him. Whirlpools howled in terror. His mind unfurled like a blooming black lotus, touching the minds of all who dared dream.
He would answer this challenge. He would test this invader. And when he crushed him beneath a thousand fathoms of nightmare, when the light in that soul flickered and died, he would watch.
He would savor what new horrors emerged.
What new nightmares could take place?
The thought made Zarakan shiver with delight.
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The wind howled across the shattered ocean, its gales thick with the scent of salt and shadow. From high above the mountainous cliffs of the abyssal capital, the world seemed stitched together by fear and darkness. Yet amidst that overwhelming bleakness, a shimmer of gold split the gloom like a sword of light.
Naruto stood still, golden armor aglow with an ethereal hum, as if the very stars themselves had melted into his skin. From the abyss below, a tremor rose. Then a great shadow slithered from the ocean, coiling into the sky, its mass eclipsing even the light of the broken sun. The creature unfurled itself like a scroll of ancient horror, each movement shaking the very crust of the world.
And then, he saw him.
Zarakan.
Son of Dagon. Prince of the Nightmare. One of the fabled "Those Who Sleep Below." His body was serpentine — scales blacker than midnight and ridged with violet veins pulsing like arteries of poison. His eyes were moons of swirling madness, and when he opened his mouth, it was like a library of screams being torn apart.
"And so," Zarakan hissed, his voice dripping with an oily charm, "the flame arrives to dance."
Naruto's eyes did not flinch. His voice was steady, though laced with that same mischievous tilt he never quite managed to bury, even in the gravest of moments.
"Well, I would've brought a proper invitation, but your mailbox is a screaming void. Bit hard to find postage stamps there."
Zarakan's maw curved into something like amusement. "You jest in the face of ruin. Your spirit is bold... or foolish."
"Bit of both," Naruto replied, stepping forward until his armor blazed like a morning star. "But I've found that jesting helps when facing oversized seafood with delusions of grandeur."
The wind blew around them, cold and foul, but neither warrior budged. Zarakan slithered downward, bringing his face close enough that Naruto could see rows upon rows of gleaming, crooked teeth — each one carved from devoured hope.
"You mock what you cannot understand, child of fate. I do not destroy... I unravel. I do not kill... I transform. You will become a whisper in your friends' minds, a flickering horror in their dreams."
Naruto narrowed his eyes, his fingers tightening on the shaft of EA, the reality-warping spear now humming softly, almost in anticipation.
"And you will become a bedtime story for the next generation of ramen vendors."
Zarakan's laugh rolled like a thunderstorm across the black waves. "You are amusing. You burn with light... but all light flickers in time. And when your flame gutters, I will be there to drink the ashes."
"You can try," Naruto said, a grin blooming slowly, "but I don't extinguish easy. You see, I've met monsters before. I've met immortals and devils. And every single one of them thought they were inevitable."
"And they all fell?" Zarakan asked.
"No," Naruto replied, "but I'm still here. And they're all very quiet these days."
For a moment, the world held its breath. Nightmare met defiance. Old madness stared into burning hope. And in that suspended moment, history shifted.
Zarakan slowly raised his head, the sea beneath him turning into a cyclone of dark water. His voice was calm, as if addressing an equal at last.
"Then let us write a new story. Let your flame blaze... and let me see if it can resist the tide."
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The sky rippled like silk set aflame, torn open by forces no mortal tongue could rightly describe. Naruto's eyes were sharp as flint, gleaming with resolve, and from his outstretched hand came the command — silent yet thunderous in its reach.
Enkidu.
The sacred chains, older than legend, surged forth in a flash of divine gold. They tore through the sky, shattering the clouds and piercing the fabric of the void itself, emerging from every direction with the fury of a hundred suns. Each link of the chain shimmered with immortal-forged authority, meant to bind that which defied reality itself.
But Zarakan did not flinch.
The monstrous serpent lord — born of Dagon's nightmare and tempered in the hollows between time — let out a whisper of laughter, barely audible, yet it scratched across the surface of the soul like rusted nails. As the chains rushed upon him, his form shifted — melting into vapor, like thick, oil-slick smoke that drifted between the links and reformed again without effort.
"These are the bonds of immortals," Zarakan crooned, voice like the grinding of ancient tombs. "But I am not bound by divinity... I was born before it."
Then came the roar.
Not a sound — no, not in the way humans understood sound. It was an eruption of despair, of distorted memories, of every childhood nightmare one thought forgotten, resurrected with teeth. The world convulsed. The ground fractured. Even the stars blinked uncertainly above.
And Naruto's mind was struck.
The roar surged into his consciousness like an invading army, clawing at his thoughts, whispering fears, planting illusions — dragging him toward the Nightmare Realm, where logic drowned and hope turned to screaming shadows.
But Naruto's mind did not falter.
Within his consciousness was not an open plain to conquer, but an infinite maze — boundless and luminous, forged by years of pain, resilience, and unbreakable will. The nightmares found no footing. The illusions withered like moths against flame.
"Not today," Naruto muttered, voice low, almost reverent.
He summoned EA, the reality-warping spear, and its crimson blade glowed with a fury matched only by stars in their final breath. With a swing that carved echoes through the very air, Naruto slashed forward — his attacks laced with spatial distortion, folding the battlefield like paper and trying to carve Zarakan into oblivion.
The sea dragon twisted, coiling through space like a thought escaping comprehension. He endured, resisting the spatial tears as if reality itself was just another cloth for him to ignore. And then he struck.
Zarakan lunged.
A sudden blur — faster than thunder, darker than sin — and he crashed into Naruto with the weight of a planet. The air exploded from Naruto's lungs as he was thrown like a comet across the broken sky.
Only instinct saved him.
In a flash of golden brilliance, he teleported, reappearing just in time to raise a barrier of chakra — layers upon layers of spiraling light forged by sheer will.
Zarakan responded with a beam of shadow.
It ripped through the heavens, a lance of screaming blackness that shrieked with the howls of a million lost souls. The beam struck Naruto's barrier, sending cracks of despair crawling across its surface.
All around him, the darkness stirred.
It wasn't just shadows anymore — it was presence. A consciousness that coiled and slithered and whispered from the corners of his vision. Ghostly tendrils brushed against his armor. Faces formed in the gloom, eyes wide with eternal terror, lips moving in silent screams.
"Join us… fall… fade…"
Naruto growled, teeth gritted. The weight of despair pressed on him like an ocean atop his shoulders.
"I've carried the weight of the world before," he snarled, raising his spear again, "this? This is just a whisper."
The golden chakra flared once more — his eyes blazing like suns.
And the nightmare trembled.
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The golden energy around Naruto intensified, twisting and swirling in spirals that seemed to defy the very nature of time and space itself. His chakra barrier, composed of a thousand interwoven layers, spun in intricate patterns, dispersing the incoming darkness like a cosmic storm. The forces of the universe itself trembled under the weight of his power, and with a final roar of command, Naruto's barrier erupted. The golden energy exploded outward in every direction, enveloping the skies above like a radiant sun, pushing back the very darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.
Naruto's eyes narrowed, and in that split second, time itself seemed to slow. He manipulated the space around him, compressing it, tightening it, making it difficult for Zarakan to move freely. The atmosphere thickened, as though reality itself was being bent to Naruto's will. With the press of his mind, Naruto increased his speed, a flash of golden light streaking across the fractured sky. In contrast, Zarakan's movements slowed, as though his very essence was being weighed down by the suffocating pressure of the battle.
And then, with a focus that could shatter worlds, Naruto unleashed his ultimate technique: the Rasen-Shuriken of Yin and Yang.
The energy tore through the fabric of reality itself, a swirling maelstrom of light and darkness, of creation and destruction. The very size of the attack dwarfed the planet itself, growing to the size of the moon as it shot forward with the fury of a dying star. The Rasenshuriken hummed with pure energy, its power a fusion of everything Naruto had learned—its centrifugal force was enough to tear apart both body and soul, capable of erasing entire realities in its wake.
The dark sky trembled as the attack flew toward Zarakan, a force so powerful it would reshape existence itself.
Zarakan, however, remained calm, his unfathomable eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and disdain. The Son of Dagon, the harbinger of nightmares, was no stranger to powers of this magnitude. He had witnessed the unmaking of universes in his long, cursed existence. The power Naruto wielded was immense, a force capable of cracking even the strongest of barriers, but Zarakan knew it wouldn't be enough to destroy him. Not yet.
With a twisted smile, Zarakan activated his Nightmare Domain, the very air around him shifting as reality bent and broke like a shattered mirror. The world itself seemed to liquefy, dark and terrifying creatures slithering and crawling out of the shifting chaos. Nightmarish horrors materialized from the depths of forgotten dreams—beasts made of twisted shadows, faceless abominations, and monstrous forms whose mere presence caused the mind to recoil.
Naruto's Rasenshuriken collided with one of these nightmares, a grotesque being of gnarled limbs and hollow eyes. The explosion from the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the dimension, and though the Rasenshuriken tore through the abomination, it was only a fraction of the true nightmare that Zarakan had unleashed. More creatures poured from the Domain, each one more horrific than the last, their forms constantly shifting and evolving into new shapes as they charged at Naruto.
The Rasenshuriken, though powerful, did not break the Nightmare Realm. Instead, it collided with the reality-bending horrors, causing them to explode in violent bursts of darkness, but the force of the attack barely touched the Dark Dimension's boundary. If it were any other place, the attack would have torn a hole in the fabric of existence itself, but the Dark Dimension was a prison created by the demon lords for one simple reason: It was nearly impossible to escape. Even Zarakan himself could not escape its limits without assistance.
As the chaos and madness swirled around them, Zarakan's deep, mirthful laughter echoed across the distorted sky.
"Impressive, human. Truly impressive." His voice was dark, mocking, yet laced with a strange respect. "But you still don't understand, do you?"
Zarakan leaned forward, his immense dragon-like form twisting in the air, his massive wings sending ripples of terror through the very fabric of existence. His voice turned colder, more venomous.
"This game of distance will get us nowhere. You rely too much on your little tricks and your toys. But do you have the courage to face me directly? Or do you fear the taste of true darkness, the kind that doesn't simply break your body, but devours your soul?"
Naruto's expression was unreadable, but his eyes shone with a flicker of amusement. He wasn't intimidated by the endless horrors around him. He had faced greater nightmares before—both literal and within his own heart.
"Face you?" Naruto chuckled, his voice ringing out like a bell, sharp and clear despite the surrounding chaos. "Why would I face you when I can destroy you from here?" He gestured with his hand, directing the swirling mass of golden energy to tighten its grip around Zarakan, forcing the nightmare creatures back. "You'll have to do better than a couple of nightmare beasts to scare me, Zarakan. Besides, I've already faced my demons."
The tension in the air grew, thick and suffocating, as Naruto's words sank in. Zarakan's eyes flared with a flicker of rage, but his cool exterior remained intact.
"You think your banter and tricks will save you?" Zarakan hissed. "Let's see how you handle real fear."
With a snap of his claws, the entire Nightmare Domain twisted again, warping the landscape around them into something darker, something more twisted. The sky shifted into a shade of ink-black, as shadowy tendrils reached toward Naruto, trying to drag him into the heart of his own nightmares. The very space around them pulsed with fear, a darkness so potent it threatened to rip at the very fabric of his mind.
Naruto steadied himself, still grinning.
"Fear?" he mused aloud, unfazed by the swirling abyss. "Buddy, I've got a whole lot more to be scared of than you. Trust me, I've seen worse."
And just like that, the battle continued, a war of wills between two forces who knew no surrender, each trying to break the other in ways no one else could even begin to comprehend.
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The dark waters swirled around them, their forms nearly invisible against the oppressive blackness of the abyss. Naruto, Kakashi, and Sakura moved with purpose, the weight of their armor almost non-existent in the near weightless environment. Their presence was but a whisper, a faint ripple on the surface of the dark sea, but it was clear they were close to their goal.
Yet, just as they approached the shimmering gate that would lead them to the next realm, a cold, almost mocking voice interrupted the quiet tension.
"You really think you could just slip through unnoticed?" The voice was smooth, dripping with amusement, yet laced with a dark, foreboding undertone.
Naruto's instincts flared. Danger. It wasn't just the presence of an enemy—it was the feeling that surged through him, the sudden shift in the air, as if a wall of pressure had descended around them. His hand instinctively went to his weapons, but before he could make any move, a figure stepped forward from the darkness, his silhouette emerging like a shadow within shadow.
There, standing before the gate, was a man with jet-black hair and an unsettling smile—a smile that promised pain, chaos, and something far older than the stars themselves.
Zarakan.
But he was not in his monstrous, nightmare-dragon form. No. This was his human guise, still exuding the same overwhelming aura of power, but in a more deceptive, human shape. His eyes gleamed like twin voids, dark and endless, pulling at the very fabric of the space around them.
"You really think you could slip past me with such a simple plan?" Zarakan's voice was honeyed with mockery, a sharp contrast to the unbridled menace that lurked beneath it. "I must say, I'm impressed by your cleverness. But you must know that I am no fool."
Naruto's eyes narrowed, his senses tingling with the ever-growing sense of danger. There was something off about the man—something too calm, too sure of himself.
"A bit late to the party, aren't you?" Naruto shot back, his tone a mixture of casual amusement and simmering tension. "I thought you'd be up there fighting my clone. Guess you've got more time to play games down here, huh?"
Zarakan's smile grew wider, though it was no smile of warmth—it was the kind of smile that came before a storm, before destruction, before something deeply sinister was unleashed.
"Oh, I am playing," Zarakan purred, his voice sending a shiver down Naruto's spine. "And I'm quite fond of games, you see. You are my game now." He stepped forward, as though the water itself bent to his will, dark tendrils of nightmare creeping at the edges of his form.
Naruto's eyes flicked toward the gate behind Zarakan. His gut told him they couldn't afford to waste any more time. They had to move, had to get through the gate. But the man before them was no ordinary opponent—this was the Son of Dagon, the harbinger of nightmares.
"I don't play well with monsters," Naruto quipped, his voice light, but there was an edge to it now. "So how about you stop being so chatty and let us through? I'm not really in the mood for a game."
Zarakan tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with something far darker than amusement. The laughter that bubbled up from his chest was low and dangerous.
"Oh, but you will play," Zarakan replied, his voice now cold, almost clinical. "You see, the game has already begun. And you, little hero, are already a part of it." He stretched his hand out, fingers curling like the claws of a predatory bird. "It's too late to turn back now. You've entered my domain. You've entered my world."
Naruto's focus tightened, his mind already strategizing, calculating the next move. He could feel the energy swirling around them, the oppressive weight of Zarakan's presence, but he wasn't going to back down.
"Fine," Naruto said, a grin creeping onto his face. "You want to play, huh? Well, I've never been good at playing by your rules. You'll have to keep up."
The air crackled with tension, and for a brief moment, Naruto glanced behind him at Kakashi and Sakura. Both were already in combat stance, but it was clear this battle wasn't just physical. This was going to be a battle of wills.
Meanwhile, from the shadows, hidden in her soul form, Raven watched the scene unfold with quiet intensity. Her presence was undetectable, her very essence slipping through the cracks of reality, hidden from the notice of both Zarakan and Naruto. She had been on the run, her heart heavy with the weight of her own demons—her father, Trigon, had been closing in, hunting her across realms, seeking to reclaim her for his twisted purposes.
The gate before them was her escape, her only hope of finding refuge in another region. She needed it, needed to leave this place before her father found her. But for that, she needed the gate to remain open.
And as she watched the confrontation between Naruto and Zarakan unfold, she realized she would have to bide her time. The son of Dagon would no doubt be too preoccupied with the hero before him to notice her. At least for now.
She could feel the pressure building as the nightmare domain seeped further into the world, its tendrils creeping around the edges of the gate. But Raven was patient. She could wait.
She always had.
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A.N. Dagon is Nightmare from Marvel. Zarakan is his son, Trauma.
What do you guys think of the story? I hope you guys can share your opinion.