After sending Shadow Clones to report his progress twice, Tetsumaru's attempt to write the genetic information for the Mantis directly into the Larvae was officially declared a failure. The reason was simple: the sheer volume of information required for a Mantis to pupate was far too massive—it exceeded the sum of all his previous giant insects and went well beyond the carrying capacity of a single Larva.
As it turned out, even for a basic "cannon fodder" unit, pupation required a dedicated facility to provide the necessary biological blueprints and information.
Tetsumaru let out a sigh, abandoning his idea of skipping the structural phase to compress information into the Larvae. He resigned himself to researching the construction techniques for a Blood Pool.
Once he chose the correct path, the research proceeded much more smoothly. Storing the incubation data for a Mantis within a structure was significantly easier; after all, there was a qualitative difference between the sixty-ton mass of a Blood Pool and the 1.5-kilogram weight of a Larva.
However, just as he was pushing the Blood Pool research forward, an unexpected situation arose: he fell ill.
It started with a slight, instantaneous headache—as if something had been forcibly shoved into his brain. The pain was very mild at first and didn't reoccur immediately, so Tetsumaru dismissed it as a hallucination and didn't take it to heart.
But the frequency of the headaches gradually increased. It began to feel as though his mind was being struck by an invisible hammer, and soon, a low-grade fever set in.
At this point, Tetsumaru couldn't afford to ignore it. He was stationed alone; falling ill in the field could be a death sentence.
Moreover, he wasn't an ordinary person. Given his shinobi physique and the disease-resistant capabilities of the Aburame clan's Kikaichu, he rarely got sick. If he truly did fall ill, it was almost guaranteed to be serious.
Panic-stricken, Tetsumaru performed a thorough self-examination. The results showed he was perfectly healthy.
Yet, the next day, the headaches and fever persisted. Tetsumaru was baffled. He muttered to himself, "Is it really true that a doctor cannot heal himself?"
Desperate, he traveled to the capital of the Land of Tea and contacted a medical ninja for an evaluation. The result was the same: he was in peak physical condition.
But even the medical ninja grew hesitant. Tetsumaru claimed his headaches were excruciating, and while the ninja couldn't verify mental pain, a fever of 39°C (102.2°F) was impossible to miss.
In the end, the medical ninja just guessed. He threw a random assortment of sedatives, painkillers, and antipyretics at Tetsumaru, telling him to take them all at once and see what happened.
Seriously? Tetsumaru thought. Without chakra and medical ninjutsu, these guys are just a bunch of quacks. Is he trying to cure me or poison me?
But Tetsumaru was out of options. The headaches were worsening by the day. He decided to treat himself as a "dead horse" and took the cocktail of drugs. He fell asleep almost instantly.
Ah, so that's it.
Upon falling asleep, he automatically logged into the Sea of Souls. Due to the grueling work of building the new base and researching technologies, Tetsumaru hadn't had a proper night's sleep in ages. This was his first time returning here in two months.
Everything became clear. The source of the headaches was the feedback from the "Shadow Clone Orbs" he had launched across the Sea of Souls three years ago.
But... that was it?
The first feedback: Darkness. Total darkness. So bored. Going crazy. Out of chakra. The second: Who am I? Where am I? The third: Sleep... sleep... still sleeping. Woke up. Dead. The fourth: ...It's over.
Tetsumaru: "...What the hell is this junk?"
The situation was actually quite straightforward. Either the Shadow Clone orbs had run out of chakra during their flight and dispelled, or they had gone insane from boredom during their three-year journey through the void.
Ultimately, the experiment he had attempted three years ago was flawed. The method of separating a Shadow Clone and letting it fly without sealing it was a mistake. A conscious Shadow Clone either couldn't endure the absolute silence of the environment or couldn't sustain the energy consumption required to stay awake.
After tallying the results, Tetsumaru confirmed that the first batch of three hundred Shadow Clones had all returned their memories. Their practical experience was essentially zero, but their emotional feedback was extreme—either a state of boundless, violent madness or a cold, silent apathy.
This extreme emotional influx had put immense mental pressure on Tetsumaru. Had it not been filtered through the Sea of Souls, the real-world Tetsumaru would have likely been driven insane.
Even with that buffer, the impact was a terrifying mental burden. It manifested in the physical world as agonizing headaches and a high fever.
Shadow Clones really shouldn't be launched directly into the void, he realized. The consequences are too severe. They all lost their minds.
Fortunately, there were only three hundred of them.
Tetsumaru felt a wave of relief that his chakra reserves hadn't been as abundant back then. Otherwise, he might have followed through on his crazy idea of launching thousands or even tens of thousands of clones.
Looking back, Tetsumaru had made a great sacrifice to obtain the Shadow Clone Jutsu and Multi-Shadow Clone Jutsu. He had traded his knowledge of Ninjutsu Meridian Mastery and Chakra Runes to Orochimaru for them.
These were the techniques he had coveted for a long time. Once he mastered them, he had immediately logged into the Sea of Souls. The fact that his soul form was a glowing orb without hands didn't stop him—he used Chakra Runes.
For Tetsumaru, completing a jutsu through hand seals was never true mastery. Only when he could directly manipulate chakra with his mind to draw runes and successfully trigger the effect did he consider himself a master.
This was because he needed to apply ninjutsu in the Sea of Souls, where he lacked a physical body.
As he slowly drew the chakra runes, a solid orb of light was produced. Tetsumaru was ecstatic. He immediately drew a Wind Style rune, creating a gust to blow the Shadow Clone orb, attempting to send it toward the nearest soul light.
It worked on the first try. He could actually move Shadow Clones with Wind Style.
The Shadow Clone orb successfully approached its target, but because the aim was slightly off, it missed the collision. Instead, it was caught by the target's gravity and began to orbit it. The orbit grew increasingly stable, forming an elliptical path.
By the time Tetsumaru woke up and logged off, the orbit was perfectly stable, with no other changes.
For the next three days, Tetsumaru logged in on schedule. Each time, he watched the two orbs spin around each other until he woke up. It was mind-numbingly dull.
On the fourth day, the Shadow Clone finally ran out of chakra and dispelled.
Tetsumaru instantly received four days' worth of consciousness feedback. He felt a momentary dizzy spell, followed by a wave of helplessness and a slight drain on his chakra.
It turned out that when the Shadow Clone orb brushed past the target, it felt a pull—a gravitational force that captured the clone and forced it into orbit. Once the rotation began, the Shadow Clone was stuck; with its limited chakra, it couldn't change its state. At first, it tried to follow the test plan to see how long a minimal-chakra clone could last. But as the orbit continued, the mutual attraction caused it to start spinning on its own axis. The rotation speed eventually became so high it made the clone dizzy, rendering it unable to even dispell itself.
It spun until the fourth day. By the third day, the clone had lost the ability to think and entered a semi-comatose state. In the real world, a Shadow Clone would have automatically dispelled, but the rules of chakra in the Sea of Souls were clearly different; mental endurance seemed magnified a hundredfold.
That first experiment proved that Shadow Clones could be moved by Wind Style. Tetsumaru then created clones with larger chakra reserves that could cast their own Wind Style, achieving "precision guidance."
Afterward, he conducted countless experiments—mostly collision tests.
He collided with ordinary orbs, strong orbs, orbs rising from the abyss, and orbs falling toward it.
The results of all the collision tests were remarkably similar: charge, approach, adjust posture, adjust direction, and hit.
Then, the Shadow Clone would shatter. But it would also receive feedback from the target's soul. Every single collision result returned the exact same thing: a question mark.
Yes, just a "?".
Tetsumaru guessed that the target's soul had felt a faint impact—something so weak it could only be expressed as a confused "Did something just happen? I'm not sure."
Tetsumaru then tried consecutive collisions to see if more information could be gathered.
Unfortunately, all the orbs were in constant motion, and there was little to distinguish them from one another. If he blinked, he'd lose track of his target. Launch speed and accuracy were also major hurdles, making it impossible to hit the same orb repeatedly in quick succession.
The launch speed could be solved with the Multi-Shadow Clone Technique. As for the accuracy... Tetsumaru looked ninety degrees upward. The three massive orbs of light hanging high above were slowly rotating.
If the target is big enough, accuracy isn't an issue, right?
Twelve days later, after resting for a day to ensure he was at full strength, Tetsumaru logged into the Sea of Souls. He unleashed a Multi-Shadow Clone Technique at the massive orb closest to him.
The collision experiment on the orb suspected to be the Great Toad Sage failed. Because it was surrounded by numerous smaller orbs, the thirty-four Shadow Clones couldn't achieve a single consecutive hit. The feedback remained meaningless.
The collision on the orb suspected to be the White Snake Sage had the same result: too much interference.
Finally, the collision on the orb suspected to be the Slug Sage was a huge success. But the result left Tetsumaru frustrated. Despite thirty-six consecutive hits, the information was still chaotic.
Refusing to give up, Tetsumaru experimented for a week. He finally managed to resolve two distinct, complete thoughts: "Who are you?" and "My name is Katsuyu."
This confirmed the identity of the orb. It also gave Tetsumaru a theory: Katsuyu's mental will, much like her physical ability to split and recombine, existed in a fragmented state.
He tried consecutive experiments on the other two giant orbs, but they resulted in failure after failure. Left with no other choice, he finally turned his gaze toward the largest orb—the one that had grown dim and silent.
Ootsutsuki Kaguya-hime... right?
During that same month, the three Great Sages of the Three Great Sage Regions encountered something strange.
At Mount Myoboku, Gamamaru suddenly began having a series of dreams. However, the dreams were nothing but blurry, intermittent flashes of light that left him completely baffled.
Gamamaru woke up from yet another undecipherable dream, scratched his chin, and sighed. "My prophetic dreams are getting blurrier. Am I dying? Or is there another reason?"
Then he fell back asleep. If I dream a few more times, I'll figure it out... right?
The White Snake Sage suddenly felt as though someone was peeping at it, but it couldn't find the source. This made it increasingly irritable, to the point that even the three Snake Crawlers were punished—a situation that hadn't occurred in a thousand years.
The Slug Sage, Katsuyu, pushed over a giant tree with a squelch and began to munch on it. The taste of the delicious plant filled the Sage with happiness.
This tree is so tasty.Tasty! Wait, was I supposed to be doing something?I don't know.I can't remember either.Why worry about it? So many trees have ripened today.Forget it. Don't overthink things while eating.
In the chaotic torrent of her consciousness, a single thought soon emerged that swept away all other distractions: Food is life. Food is life.
Tetsumaru, entirely unaware of the chaos he'd caused, began a new collision plan. He aimed at that massive, dim, silent, and immobile orb and started a series of consecutive collision experiments.
The collisions were a total success, but the feedback was not.
After three hundred hits, the failed feedback gave Tetsumaru an answer: the other party's consciousness was practically frozen, shielded behind layer upon layer of barriers.
It was likely that his Shadow Clones weren't strong enough. The impact wasn't sufficient to carry information through the barriers to get the target's attention.
Thus, every collision experiment within visible range failed. He had to set them aside for the time being.
Logging into the Sea of Souls every night but having nothing to do left Tetsumaru feeling very unsettled. Two days later, he cast his gaze even further up. High above the Sea of Souls, countless stars twinkled at an unfathomable distance.
What are those stars?How far away are they?What can I do to them?
Driven by infinite curiosity and the "might as well" mentality, Tetsumaru launched a Shadow Clone toward the largest and brightest star.
For the next month, he launched them continuously, but received zero feedback.
A month later, a sudden inspiration struck: Let's see what happens if I launch a Shadow Clone with a seal on it.
He then used various sealing jutsu to lock down the Shadow Clones before launching them with Wind Style, still aiming for that massive, bright star.
This experiment lasted for half a year before he finally stopped. No matter what he did, there was no feedback. Continuing the experiment felt meaningless.
Tetsumaru turned his attention back to his insect modulation experiments and combat testing—until today.
A Multi-Shadow Clone created with all my strength could actually last for three years. Impressive.
The collision experiment on the stars had failed, but that was still a result.
And this failed result reminded Tetsumaru: three years had passed since his last attempt to hit that silent, massive orb in the Sea of Souls. Maybe it was time to try hitting it again?