Smoke drifted across the broken field, the scent of burnt moss heavy in the air. Kaelen stood still, sword dripping with dark ichor from the corrupted frog's body. Its final roar echoed faintly through the forest before fading into silence.
He exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. His hands trembled — not from fear, but exhaustion. "That thing… it wasn't supposed to exist here," he muttered. "Even this world has its monsters."
He sank to one knee, feeling his chakra flicker weakly. The forest wind brushed against him like an old friend. And as his heart steadied, something deep inside stirred — a memory.
A whisper from a life left behind.
---
Flashback
He remembered the noise of the city — car horns, sirens, rain hitting the taxi windshield. His name had once been Kaelen Reeves, thirty years old, a soldier turned driver.
He had survived two wars, lost more friends than he could count, and carried the faces of the fallen in his mind every night.
He remembered standing in front of his cracked mirror, holding the wooden sword he made as a boy — his only piece of peace.
Back then, it wasn't about power. It was about discipline. About control.
The blade never betrayed him, even when people did.
"I trained because I was scared," he whispered to the memory. "Scared of being weak. Scared of losing everything again."
He remembered the night of his death — the flash of headlights, the screech of tires, the bottle rolling off the seat beside him. The last thought that crossed his mind wasn't regret. It was a wish.
A second chance… just one more chance to become more.
---
Back to Present
Kaelen's eyes opened, the faint glow of Sage Mode fading from his pupils. "This is that chance," he murmured. "No more running. No more hesitation."
He rose, gripping his sword tighter. The cut across his arm still burned, but he smiled through the pain.
"In my old world, I survived bullets and fire," he said quietly. "Here, I'll survive gods and demons if I have to."
The forest around him seemed to pulse in response, as if nature itself acknowledged his vow.
Fukasaku's voice echoed faintly in his head — "Strength without purpose turns to stone."
Kaelen sheathed his sword. "Then my purpose is clear," he said. "I'll live. I'll grow. And I'll carve my own legend into this world."
The wind carried his words away, toward the fading sunset — where a new journey awaited beyond Mount Myoboku.