Far from the blood-soaked fields of the Warring States Era, in realms untouched by mortal strife, a meeting of cosmic significance was taking place. These were not the councils of clan leaders, concerned with borders and resources, but a gathering of beings whose awareness spanned millennia, whose concerns were the very balance of the world itself.
The location was a nexus, a point of convergence between the three great sage realms. The air was thick not with chakra, but with ancient, primordial energy. The ground beneath was not soil, but a swirling mist of potential, and the sky above was a tapestry of shifting constellations unseen by human eyes.
Three figures, each a legend in their own right, stood at the center of this convergence.
There was Gamamaru, the Great Toad Sage of Mount Myōboku. His form was immense and wizened, his body covered in the wrinkles of countless centuries. His eyes, often closed in slumber or prophecy, were now open, their yellow depths reflecting galaxies of unspoken knowledge.
Across from him stood the White Snake Sage of the Ryūchi Cave. She was a being of lethal grace and cold beauty, her scales shimmering with an opalescent sheen, her vertical pupils holding the patience of a predator that had watched civilizations rise and fall. A flick of her tongue tasted the currents of fate in the air.
Completing the triad was the Slug Sage of the Shikkotsu Forest. Her form was less defined, a massive, benevolent presence that radiated an aura of immense life and regenerative power. Her voice, when she spoke, was like the soft, deep hum of the earth itself, soothing and immense.
It was Gamamaru who broke the silence, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the fabric of the nexus. "My fellow sages. I have called this gathering because I have received an invitation. An invitation we cannot ignore."
The White Snake Sage let out a dismissive hiss. "An invitation? From whom? That old woman? I was not aware the King was still in the habit of hosting social gatherings." Her tone was laced with a familiar, centuries-old sarcasm.
The Slug Sage's form undulated gently, a sign of mild reproach. "Mind your words, White One. If the Queen hears you speak of her in such a manner, she might decide to remind you of your… formative years. I still recall the time she taught you the meaning of humility. You were coiled around that mountain for a decade before she deemed your attitude sufficiently adjusted."
The White Snake Sage stiffened, a flicker of what might have been remembered embarrassment crossing her reptilian features. She could not refute it. The memory of the Queen's discipline was a permanent brand on her pride. "Tch. Very well. So, what is the matter? They have not deigned to connect with the mortal world's affairs for an age. What has stirred them from their celestial perch?"
Gamamaru's great chest expanded with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of epochs. "The Queen of Sages… has going to taken a disciple."
The statement landed in the nexus with the force of a meteor strike. The very mist at their feet stilled. The White Snake Sage's head reared back in genuine shock. The Slug Sage's gentle humming ceased abruptly.
"A… disciple?" the White Snake Sage finally managed, her voice uncharacteristically faint. "The Divine Phoenix? The Eternal Flame? She has never accepted a disciple. Not in all the millennia I have existed." Her mind raced. The Queen was the ruler of life and death, a being of pure creation and absolute destruction, a true immortal who had witnessed the birth of stars. Her standards were… absolute. To be worthy of her tutelage, a soul would have to possess a destiny that could alter the very axis of the mundane world.
The Slug Sage echoed the thought. "It is unprecedented. What being could possibly meet her criteria? Is it one of us? A scion of another mythical lineage?"
Gamamaru shook his massive head, his warts trembling. "I do not know the disciple's identity. Not their name, not their origin. The invitation was a summons, not an explanation. But I do know one thing." He paused, his prophetic eyes growing distant. "This is the one. The being from the prophecy I spoke of two years past."
The air grew colder. The Slug Sage leaned forward, her immense presence focusing. "The King of Justice? The one you said could perceive the threads of fate and… rewrite them?"
"Indeed," Gamamaru rumbled. "The one I called the 'Weaver of a New Tapestry.' My understanding of the prophecy was that he would not intervene lightly. To reshape fate is to challenge the cosmos itself. Such an act would require immense power and an even greater will. I foresaw it would take him decades, perhaps half a century, to gather the strength and understanding to enact any significant change."
A heavy silence fell upon them. The concept was so vast it was difficult to grasp. They, the great sages, were bound by fate. They could see its currents, navigate its eddies, but they could not change its course. A being who could not only see the loom but also take up the shuttle and re-weave the pattern… it was both a hope and a terror.
The Slug Sage, her thoughts ever-turning towards preservation, voiced the concern that lay at the heart of all their long-term fears. "Gamamaru… has the Master spoken? What of the Ōtsutsuki?"
At the name, a palpable dread infused the nexus. It was a name spoken only in whispers, a threat from the void that hung over the world like a suspended blade.
Gamamaru's expression, already grave, darkened further. "The Master has seen. The visions are… troubling. To face the Ōtsutsuki Clan in full, we would need a power native to them, turned against them. We would need Kaguya herself."
A collective shudder passed through the three sages. The White Snake Sage let out a long, weary hiss. "If only she had not consumed that cursed fruit. Perhaps then she would stand with us now, a guardian of this world, not its would-be devourer."
The Slug Sage nodded, her form seeming to droop with a sorrow as old as the mountains. "The chakra fruit… born from the life force of a world, a distillation of countless souls. It is an abomination. The very process of its creation is an act of ultimate evil. It cannot help but corrupt the consumer, twisting their purpose, no matter how noble it once was."
"We knew the fruit was a perversion of natural law," the White Snake Sage said, her voice losing its sharp edge, replaced by a rare tone of regret. "But we did not understand the depth of its corruption until it was too late. If we had known… if we had been able to stop her…"
Gamamaru finished the somber thought. "Her goal, in the twisted depths of her corrupted mind, remains the same: to defend this world from her own clan. But the path she has chosen… the Infinite Tsukuyomi, turning all life into a silent, dreaming monument… it is a victory that is indistinguishable from annihilation. We are trapped. We cannot support her, yet we need her power to survive what is coming."
The White Snake Sage looked out into the swirling mists of the nexus, her gaze millennia-weary. "So, we are playthings. Pawns on a board designed by fate, moving towards a checkmate we can see but cannot avoid." She sighed, a sound like dry leaves scattering across stone. "It seems only a being born outside the chains of fate and destiny, a soul that writes its own rules upon the cosmos, can cut this Gordian knot."
The truth of her statement settled over them. For all their power, for all their wisdom, they were bound by the narrative of the world. They were characters in a story whose ending seemed tragically preordained.
With nothing more to be said, the council dissolved. The three sages bowed their heads in a final, silent acknowledgment of their shared powerlessness and their fragile, rekindled hope, and then they vanished, their consciousnesses retreating to their respective realms—the misty mountains, the deep caves, and the ancient forests.
They departed with the weight of a new variable in their ancient calculations: a mysterious disciple of the Phoenix Queen, and the lingering echo of a prophecy about a King of Justice who could rewrite fate. They did not know his name. They did not know his face. They did not know that he was not a king, but a young man with hair as white as moonlight and eyes that held the birth and death of stars. They did not know he was already walking the earth, his heart burdened by love and loss, his soul armed with a power he was only beginning to understand, quietly preparing to defend a world that did not yet know it needed saving. The defender, the weaver, the secret god, was already among them. And his time was coming much, much sooner than any of the sages could have ever prophesied.
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