Chapter 8
The Return of the Heroes
The arrival of Konoha's elite force was not the triumphant return expected of a successful mission. The teleportation seal deposited Minato and the others back in the heart of the village, but they looked less like heroes and more like survivors of a natural disaster. Dust coated their faces, their clothing was torn, and every member moved with the sluggish fatigue of having pushed their absolute limit.
Minato immediately released his Sage Mode, collapsing to one knee, breath tearing in his chest. Jiraiya, too, slumped, Ma and Pa Toads vanishing from his shoulders with weary puffs of smoke.
Kushina rushed forward, followed closely by the twins, Menma and Nanako.
"Minato! Jiraiya! Are you alright?" Kushina's voice was laced with frantic concern, her eyes scanning for injury.
Minato forced a smile, though it did not reach his eyes. "We're fine, Kushina. We... we didn't capture him. But he's gone for now."
The twins, however, were focused on Jiraiya. "Did you beat the bad man, Grandpa Jiraiya?" Menma asked, his chest puffed out with the expectation of a heroic victory.
Jiraiya sighed, running a hand through his white hair. "No, kid. We didn't. We ran into something... unexpected."
The Council and the Debriefing
Hours later, the core leadership gathered in the Hokage's office. The air was heavy, not with the smoke of battle, but with the cold dread of incomprehension.
"He stopped my Shadow Imitation Jutsu by simply declaring that shadows should not bind him," Shikaku stated, leaning his elbow on the table, his face a mask of disbelief. "It wasn't a counter-jutsu; it was an override of the law itself."
Fugaku clenched his fists, the memory of his Susanoo sword snapping like a twig still fresh. "He broke my Susanoo's weapon between two fingers. He bit Kakashi's Raikiri in half. He made the Amaterasu black flames irrelevant."
Guy, his face bruised but his eyes burning, slammed his fist on the table. "He suppressed my Seventh Gate with a single finger! He spoke of my will with respect, yet treated my full power like a trivial parlor trick!"
Minato finally spoke, his voice low and serious. "He called himself Lucifer Morningstar. He said he was 'The Devil.' He knew everything. He saw our attacks before we launched them, and he was completely unaffected by all of them, including my Sage-enhanced Rasengans."
Kushina, who had been listening from the side, took a sharp intake of breath. "The Devil... The fallen angel. Those old stories..."
"This is not a story, Kushina," Jiraiya countered gravely. "This is an entity that exists on a completely different level than any Kage or Jinchūriki. His power isn't Chakra; it's something else. Something... fundamental."
The realization settled over the room: Konoha's ultimate force had just been effortlessly played with.
The debriefing ended with no plan, only a collective terror of the unknown. As the shinobi dispersed, Minato and Kushina walked home, the exhaustion now mixed with a deep, existential weariness.
The moment they opened the door, they found Naruto.
He was in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a pile of books. He looked up, his sapphire eyes clear and wide, a picture of innocent childhood curiosity.
"Welcome home, Father, Mother," he said, his voice as smooth as silk.
The sight of him brought back the chilling memory of the night before—his cold prediction of Minato's return, his refusal to wish him well, his absolute certainty in a predetermined script.
"Naruto," Minato began, his voice rough. "We need to talk. What did you know about—"
Chapter 8.2
The Unseen King's Judgment
"We need to talk. What did you know about—" Minato began, his voice rough and laced with the anxiety he couldn't hide.
Naruto closed the book in his lap, with a soft, decisive thud. He didn't rise, remaining seated on the floor, yet he somehow managed to project an aura of total dominance over his father, the most powerful ninja in the world.
"About your little field trip?" Naruto tilted his head, his golden hair catching the dim evening light. His eyes, the same piercing blue as his father's, held a vast, empty knowledge that made Minato physically recoil. "I knew everything. As I told you, your successful return was already written. It was tedious, frankly. All that effort for a foregone conclusion."
Kushina's fists clenched, her temper flaring against the existential dread. "Don't talk to your father that way, Naruto! He almost died fighting a monster who threatened the village!"
Naruto finally rose, slowly and elegantly, brushing non-existent dust from his clothes. He gave his mother a perfectly polite, yet completely vacant, smile.
"A monster?" he mused. "Ah. You mean the entity who referred to himself as 'The Devil.' Lucifer Morningstar, was it?"
Minato and Kushina froze. The sheer casualness of the name, spoken by their seven-year-old son, was a physical shock.
"How—how do you know that name?" Minato whispered, taking a cautious step forward.
Naruto stepped closer to the weary Hokage, his expression shifting from amusement to something cold and deeply judgmental.
"I know the name because I know the truth, Father," Naruto said, his voice dropping to the smooth, refined tenor of the Devil from the cavern. "The truth that you are all pathetically playing roles in a drama you were never meant to understand. You call your pathetic actions 'Will of Fire.' He calls his actions 'Chaos.' But it is all just noise. Noise generated by a supreme arrogance."
He gestured to Minato's torn flak jacket and bruised knuckles. "You saw him, didn't you? The effortless ease with which he dismantled your most precious techniques. Your Rasengan, your Hiraishin, your Will of Fire. All of it means nothing to him. You were pieces on a board, and he simply decided to play a better game."
Kushina was shaking, her fiery red chakra trying to surface, a primal protective instinct rising against the dark wisdom emanating from her son. "Stop it, Naruto! You don't know what you're saying!"
"Don't I, Mother?" He looked directly at her, and his eyes, for a sickening, split-second, flashed crimson. "I already told you Destiny decided he would capture the masked man. And that Will—Lucifer's will—decided that Destiny's script was boring, and so he tore it up."
Naruto smiled, and the smile was no longer innocent, but sharp, cold, and knowing.
"You despise him because he showed you the fundamental truth of your existence: you are not masters of your fate. You are puppets who merely believe the strings are gone."
Minato staggered backward, bumping into the wall.
Minato managed to gasp. "Why would you tell us this?"
Naruto placed his hands gently on his father's shoulders. The contrast between the child's soft hands and the terrifying eyes was unbearable.
"Because the game is more enjoyable when the players know they are losing," Naruto purred. He gave Minato's shoulder a final, condescending pat.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, Father. I have lessons to study."
He turned and walked away, leaving the Hokage and his wife paralyzed, realizing that their neglected, forgotten son was watching them, waiting for the curtain call of their little tragedy.