But then, a different voice echoed in his mind—Boruto. His son. His unwavering will.
"No."
He clenched his fists. That was foolish of him.
Naruto closed his eyes, focusing inward.
Inside his mindscape, where Kurama once resided, he recalled his fleeting glimpse into a new power. Faux Baryon Mode. He had barely scratched its potential during his epiphany on his 21st day in this world. Back then, it had lasted for only three seconds—three seconds of absolute, overwhelming existence. Unlike the original Baryon Mode, which burned like a supernova, this was different.
It wasn't just power.
It was a state of being.
For that brief moment, he had felt as if he were one with the universe itself. His eyes—not golden—but the boundless blue sky. A sky so vast it concealed the starry expanse within, capable of perceiving everything down to its smallest, most microscopic detail.
"I don't need three seconds."
"I don't even need one."
The resources he had gathered over these past months were immense. If he unleashed Faux Baryon Mode in its unfinished state, he would have to backpedal immediately—but he only needed a fraction of a second.
Not even a second.
In that instant, the orange markings of Sage Mode faded. His golden toad-like eyes were replaced by clear, glowing blue. It almost seemed as though he had reverted to his normal state—but these were not ordinary eyes.
They were the blue sky itself.
Faux Baryon Mode.
And just like he expected he didn't even need a fraction of a second.
The seal that bound him shattered, overridden in an instant. A power he had not anticipated, a possibility beyond what he imagined.
His glowing blue eyes dimmed, shifting back to the familiar golden hue of Sage Mode.
"Naruto."
Two voices called out to him.
His mother and father.
"Mom... Dad?" Naruto whispered, stunned.
Then, another voice—a new, familiar one.
"Naruto!"
"Naruto! Naruto, wake up!" Wendy cried, shaking him desperately. The blonde's body was burning up, his skin slick with sweat as he lay motionless on the ground. His breath was ragged, shallow—his entire body trembling from the sheer force of whatever was happening inside him.
Wendy clenched her teeth, placing her hands over his chest. A soft blue glow enveloped her palms as she poured her healing magic into him. "Healing magic: Troia!" she chanted, hoping to ease his suffering. But the moment her magic seeped into him, a harsh resistance pushed back against her, repelling her spell.
Her heart sank. It's not working!
"Why isn't it working?! Come on, please…!" she pleaded, pressing her hands harder against him. She could heal wounds, exhaustion, even certain ailments, but this—this was something different. The fever wasn't just from fatigue. It was something deeper, something internal—his very body was struggling against itself.
I can't leave him like this!
Gritting her teeth, Wendy fought back the panic clawing at her chest. She had to move. If she couldn't heal him, she could at least get him to safety.
She crouched down, wrapping Naruto's arm around her shoulders. Though his body felt impossibly heavy, she refused to let that stop her. With a deep breath, she stood, lifting him with all the strength her small frame could muster. Immediately, his weight threatened to topple her, but she planted her feet and pushed forward.
"I won't let you die here!" Wendy gasped, her legs burning as she forced herself into a sprint.
She knew where she had to go—back to where she first got separated from Carla in Worth Woodsea. If she could just reach that spot, maybe she could find help. Maybe Carla was still there, waiting for her.
Please, just hold on, Naruto!
With the wind whipping against her face, Wendy ran, her desperation outweighing her exhaustion. Every step felt like a battle, but she refused to stop.
Because Naruto needed her. And she wouldn't let him down.
Wendy's heart pounded against her ribs as she sprinted through Worth Woodsea, Naruto's unconscious form draped over her back. His fever raged hotter than before, his breathing ragged, his body trembling as it struggled to realign itself after absorbing too much ethernano.
"Just hang on, Naruto," she whispered, tightening her grip around his legs as she pushed her weary body to go faster. She had tried everything—every healing spell, every technique—but the fever ran too deep. It wasn't just a wound or an ailment; it was something beyond her reach. All she could do now was get him to safety.
The ground quaked beneath her feet. Magic bursts rippled through the air, pressing against her senses. She counted at least five different sources of battle. The air was thick with clashing energy, and despite the chaos, a familiar scent caught her attention. Carla. Wendy's exhausted eyes sharpened, her pulse quickening with renewed urgency.
Carla was in danger.
Carla, in her human form, crouched low as a chunk of earth came crashing down where she had stood mere moments ago. Hoteye's signature magic rippled through the battlefield, the very ground bending to his will. She exhaled sharply, her golden eyes locked onto her opponent. The battle had dragged on for too long, and fatigue clawed at her limbs. Still, she refused to give in.
Hoteye chuckled, his usual carefree demeanor now laced with something sharper, more focused. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. Not bad for a—bipedal cat. Didn't think your type could fight like this."
Carla wiped a trickle of blood from her lip, rolling her shoulders loose despite the exhaustion. Her hands flexed, relaxed, and then curled again—light, ready. "Yeah? Well, I didn't think a member of Oración Seis would be struggling so much against a 'mere cat.'"
Hoteye's grin twitched. "Struggling? You're amusing. But let's see how much longer you can run."
He stomped the ground, and a tidal wave of earth surged toward her. Carla didn't just dodge—she slipped through the attack, her body weaving like flowing water. As stone pillars erupted to trap her, she pivoted mid-air, twisting impossibly fast and landing softly atop one of the jagged formations. Her golden eyes never left Hoteye.
Naruto's training had honed her into something sharper than just quick reflexes. She was movement itself—controlled, calculated, untouchable.
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