Training in magic… felt strangely similar to training in Sage Art.
Soren Uchiha let his mind relax. His spiritual power slowly seeped outward—and, just as Lilinette had described, that feeling came to him.
Indescribable, impossible to put into words. As natural as breathing the moment one is born.
His awareness brushed against an immense existence, left the faintest mark there—and then, in the next instant, withdrew.
Soren's eyes snapped open, a flash of delight in them.
(Pretty much what I guessed. So-called "magic casters" are just people who've formed a link with this world's source—and gotten permission to manipulate its elemental forces.)
(Those "gods" humans worship are just reflections of their own hearts. Kind people tap into the world's source and draw out powers that skew toward "benevolent" aspects. Over time, that crystallized into the Four Gods the Re-Estize Kingdom worships.)
(And as your connection deepens, that permission goes deeper too. Maybe after breaking past level 100, you can actually peek at this world's underlying structure…)
A translucent panel slid across his mind's eye.
—Soren Uchiha
Class: Elemental Mage · Fire Lv1
Skills: —
Overall Combat Rating: Lv1 (Copper-tier adventurer; roughly equal to a human kingdom's basic militiaman)
Ascension Points: …(steadily increasing…)
He glanced over this clone's personalized Ascension System. The new entry [Elemental Mage · Fire Lv1] made him curve his lips in satisfaction.
When he lifted his gaze, he met Lilinette's wide eyes.
"Young Master Soren, you actually became a magic caster?!"
She stared as if he'd grown a second head.
"You had no prior training at all—and did it in a single meditation session!"
"Your talent is far greater than mine!"
"You absolutely have the potential to reach the Hero domain!"
Her speech slipped into formal honorifics as she bent toward him excitedly.
In the process, the generous curves under her cleric robe bounced forward and smacked squarely into his face.
"Mmm—hey."
Realizing what she'd just done to a grown man, Lilinette's cheeks flared red. She recoiled like a startled cat and dropped back onto the cushioned seat.
From the driver's bench came Sukarma's worried shout through the wooden wall.
"Young Master Soren, Lilinette—everything all right in there?"
Lilinette glanced at Soren, who was still faintly wreathed in a thin layer of nascent elemental energy. Her lips curled mischievously. She slid open the small speaking window between the cabin and the driver's seat.
"Oh my, Captain Sukarma—worried something happened between me and Young Master Soren?"
She fluttered her lashes, angled her face just so to block the view inside, and gave Soren a silent, swaying little come-hither gesture.
"Sadly, nothing's happened yet. Aa—!"
A sharp smack! rang out from inside the carriage.
Sukarma stiffened, wanting desperately to know what was going on in there—but Lilinette's body blocked the window entirely.
"Lilinette!"
"Nothing, nothing. Young Master Soren was just helping me swat a bug off my backside."
"Quit spouting nonsense!" Sukarma hissed.
Even without seeing, she could guess what kind of "bug" was involved.
"I had my eye on Young Master Soren first!"
Bound to her duty on the driver's bench, and as a hired adventurer with no right to interrogate a noble, she could only half-growl her claim while trying to push Lilinette's face out of the way to glimpse the inside.
"You go chase your little boys. Don't steal my man."
"Boys are for fun. Men are for marriage."
With a bit of soldier's strength, Sukarma shoved the pink-haired cleric aside and finally snatched a glimpse into the cabin.
The two of them were fully clothed and sitting at a proper distance.
She quietly exhaled.
"Young Master Soren, we'll be reaching a small town soon. Do you wish to stay there for the night?"
Originally, Four Weapons had planned to hurry and finish the escort as fast as possible to minimize risk.
Now Sukarma had changed her mind.
As Lilinette had said—who knew how long it would take to reach adamantite, if ever? Better to seize whatever chances she still had while she was young, strong, and not yet weathered by the road.
"Arrangements along the road can be left to you, Captain Sukarma." Soren replied calmly.
Before she could savor that, Lilinette slapped the window shut with a loud thunk, almost making Sukarma's jaw clench.
(Calm down. Calm. You can't look violent in front of him.)
(You're a captain, not a jealous village girl.)
She stared rigidly ahead, fingers tightening and loosening over the whip.
Her lips felt dry from all day in the wind. She touched her cheek, then her mouth, a line of worry between her brows.
Lilinette's skin was softer. Better cared for. Definitely better suited to spending the whole journey inside a softly cushioned magic carriage.
Tomorrow, she decided, I ride inside.
Let the thief handle the reins.
Resolved, she flicked the whip and urged the horses to a faster pace, hoping to shorten the time Soren and Lilinette spent alone together.
With a figure like that cleric's, she didn't trust any man on earth to remain completely unmoved.
Even another woman might be tempted to reach out and squeeze those legendary curves.
Inside the carriage, Lilinette knelt on the cushion, leaning forward with a languid, sultry look, gazing up at the noble youth.
"Young Master Soren, you were being very bad just now~"
"Oh?" Soren smiled. "And how bad would you like me to be next, Lilinette?"
He silently called out to his true body and clone, then, wearing a wicked grin, drew the cleric robe up over Lilinette's head like a hood, leaving nothing but a pair of long legs in fishnet stockings visible.
"Young Master Soren…"
Robes over her eyes, Lilinette could no longer see—but every other sense sharpened.
Her soft voice turned liquid.
[At this point, Soren and Lilinette share an explicit, mutually consensual intimate scene inside the carriage.
To keep things safe and non-explicit, we'll fade the camera out here and skip the graphic details, resuming once they've finished and the story moves on.]
Outside, the carriage began to rock in a slow, steady rhythm.
The thief and the male mage exchanged a look and quietly drifted farther away from the wheels.
Only Sukarma, stuck holding the reins, sat with her back straight and her jaw tight, listening to the faint, muffled sounds from behind her. A hot, itchy frustration crawled up through her chest and down toward her thighs.
Back in the shinobi world, Soren's mage-clone teleported to Mount Myōboku, intent on dissecting this world's magic through the lens of ninjutsu.
From Lilinette's explanations, magic-users had three main ways to gain spells:
Original research grounded in solid theory.
Direct instruction from teachers.
And the earliest way—being granted magic directly from the world's source, via that immense presence they all touched.
He replayed the imprint from his brief contact with the world's core.
A mess of loose spell fragments coalesced in his mind. Scattered, unstructured—most of them not even fitting the Elemental Mage · Fire class.
Anyone who could carve a coherent magic tradition out of this formless reservoir… really was a genius.
If the Empire's legendary Grand Wizard Fluder Paradyne had been born in the shinobi world, he would likely have soared far higher, instead of stalling in the "Deviationist" bracket—roughly on par with Kage-tier at best.
"My, my. That power in this body, Your Excellency…"
The Great Toad Sage of Mount Myōboku squinted as he hopped into the battered stone-frog training grounds. His usually sleepy eyes brightened for once.
"You couldn't foresee this, Great Sage?" Soren asked with interest.
He'd rarely seen the old toad this surprised—Dragon Vein aside.
"You mock this old one." The Great Toad Sage chuckled. "My prophecies are not all-seeing."
He settled by the cliff's edge, peering down at the cratered training field below, then turned his gaze toward a more distant past.
"Ever since our clan acquired chakra, my visions have been bound to this continent alone. The other land… I only know of from my father's tales. He's been gone eight hundred years."
Soren's brows rose.
"So Mount Myōboku's line comes from the other world?"
"Indeed. From that dragon-ruled land."
The Sage produced a sake bottle, and with Soren's nod, poured them both a cup. Human and toad sat side by side on the cliff, sipping quietly.
"I cannot say much," the Sage went on, "but from my father's words, all the mightiest beings there descend from the Dragon Kings. Above them all is an ancient one they called the Dragon Emperor."
"When Hagoromo and Hamura once tried to free the humans there, they returned in frustration."
"They lost?!" Soren almost dropped his cup.
In his mind, even if the Dragon Emperor had world-item-level tricks, two peak Six Paths beings fighting together should still be a nightmare for anything under true world-tier.
"They did not lose," the Sage corrected softly. "They chose not to win."
The other continent was less than ten thousand kilometers away. For a Six Paths being, that was at most a couple hours' flight; with space-time ninjutsu, mere moments.
The Great Toad Sage's voice turned distant.
"That Dragon Emperor used something akin to your world's source—linking directly to their origin power, and feeding it with souls."
"A top-tier primordial spell."
"He burned the lives of four hundred thousand humans to withstand Hagoromo and Hamura."
The old toad stated it lightly, but Soren could almost see it: a country, maybe an entire race, extinguished in a single blinding blaze.
"When that sky-darkening dragon spread its wings," the Sage said, "Hagoromo and Hamura chose to stop."
"They made a pact with the Dragon Emperor—no more needless slaughter—and then ceased all contact."
He paused, then added in a lower tone:
"Truthfully, they also feared that soul-striking primordial magic."
"That art is… troublesome."
"Very troublesome."
"I suspect," he went on, "that Hagoromo and Hamura bore wounds from that battle. Otherwise how could beings of their level die after only a century or two?"
He studied Soren's clone again, and nodded.
"Fortunately, those who remember primordial magic grow fewer with each era. Even so, caution is wise. Using a clone body with no tie to your true chakra or soul was the correct choice."
"The Dragon Kings care little about mortals," he said. "But if you intend to conquer that world, you cannot sidestep them forever."
"I know."
Soren summoned a small flame at his fingertip. The orange fire licked gently at the air.
"Do you know where their magic comes from, Great Sage?"
"Not precisely."
The old toad tilted his head, thinking.
"My memory is old and cloudy. My father spoke of a 'River of Souls' or 'Sea of Mana'—a vast reservoir of power that births magic."
"Very like the chakra fruit born of the God Tree."
He shot Soren a sideways look.
"And now you use a clone body to study that power. Are you planning to pluck the fruit their world has grown over tens of thousands of years?"
"Planning to compete with me for it, Great Sage?" Soren smiled.
The old toad took a slow sip of sake.
"Our clan has had its place here for millennia. We've no desire to return there."
"Our bodies are already full of Sage Chakra. If we begin mingling mana into that, we only cut off our own path."
"Living quietly suits us now."
"You see more clearly than most."
"Heh."
The Great Toad Sage's gaze wandered toward the horizon.
"Live a thousand years, then look back," he murmured. "You'll find many of your youthful choices and ambitions rather childish."
"I haven't even lived long enough to equal one of your knuckles." Soren drained the last of his sake and extended a hand toward the blazing sun.
"So for now…"
He clenched his fingers.
"…I want everything."
"I want to do everything."
"I want the world to move according to my will."
The Great Toad Sage bowed his head slightly.
In a fleeting vision, he saw a man standing atop a shackled Dragon Emperor, trading blows with a Thousand-Armed Buddha whose head scraped the heavens.
By the time the carriage rolled into a small town and pulled up before the "best" inn, Soren simply lifted the curtain, took one look at the shabby building, and flicked his hand.
They kept going.
For the thief and mage, who'd been jostled on horseback all day, it was a small heartbreak. But as hired help, they swallowed their disappointment and followed.
Eventually, under a reddening sky, they made camp in the open.
"Young Master Soren, shall we prepare dinner?" Sukarma asked.
"Please."
By now, Lilinette was slumped bonelessly on the cushions, cheeks flushed, lips mumbling soft nonsense in her sleep.
Soren cleaned her up just enough to stop her catching a chill, then swapped places with his clone and slipped back to Konoha.
The evening sun painted the clouds gold as Soren appeared at the edge of the campfire.
Sukarma's face, lit by the flames, looked even more exquisite than it had in daylight. Her silver hair gleamed like molten gold.
But her usually straight-backed posture had a small slump to it now, and her eyes held a strain of thwarted longing.
Lilinette's earlier sounds still echoed in her ears, like a trail of ants crawling from her chest down into her legs.
"Young Master Soren, Lilinette's worn out. She can't walk out of the carriage on her own?" she asked, trying very hard to sound normal.
Soren's gaze cooled slightly—then softened with amusement.
He stepped down from the carriage, walked up to her, and casually took her hand.
Sukarma froze.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
"She's not just tired," he murmured. "She's also quite full."
Her mind blanked.
"Would Captain Sukarma like to rest in the carriage tonight as well?"
Sukarma swallowed.
Every instinct—and every shred of womanly pride—told her to refuse. So she forced herself to ask instead:
"Is… that an order, Young Master Soren?"
If it's a job requirement, she told herself silently, then I have no right to refuse.
Soren could practically see that line of thinking written on her face.
Which was exactly why he smiled and shook his head, lightly touching a finger to her lips.
"No order," he said. "I'll be waiting for you to come on your own, Captain Sukarma."
He dropped his voice even lower.
"To sink into our pleasures together, just like Lilinette."
Her eyes widened, uncertain and conflicted.
"And don't worry," he added. "What you want won't be lacking."
"In fact, you'll have far more than a single little town."
"Gold and land," he said simply, "are the last things I lack."
His words hung in her ear as he walked away toward the fire.
Sukarma stood there, dazed.
Then she slapped her own cheeks twice.
(You're not that cheap, Sukarma!)
(The easier something is to get, the less it's cherished!)
She glared once at the carriage, then strode over to the fire and focused on dinner instead.
Tonight's menu: thick smoked-pork soup, toasted bread, milk, dried figs, and walnuts. Soren frowned slightly at the crude preparation—but when he tasted the result, it was surprisingly decent.
After eating, he turned to the party's mage.
"Tell me about spell tiers."
The man happily obliged, teaching Soren a few basic incantations appropriate to a fresh novice.
[1st-Tier Spell: Magic Arrow]
[1st-Tier Spell: Alarm]
[1st-Tier Spell: Clean]
When Soren's expression remained a bit flat, the mage hurried to explain.
"It's not that I'm unwilling to teach more powerful magic, Young Master Soren."
"But your level is still too low. You can't learn second-tier spells yet—and knowing too many spells above your tier will burden your mind and slow your growth."
Sukarma nodded.
"Mages and warriors walk very different roads."
"Most first-tier spells are just for everyday life. Offensive options are rare at that level."
"With training, a gifted caster can reach second-tier. That's when real combat spells start to appear."
"But third-tier…" She exhaled. "That domain belongs to true prodigies."
The mage stroked his beard proudly, spoke a quick incantation, and rose into the air.
"This is a third-tier spell—Fly."
"I look forward to the day Young Master Soren joins us at mythril rank, soaring freely above the world."
"At that speed?" the thief snorted. "Any half-decent archer could pluck you from the sky."
"Better to glide than crawl, ground-hugger."
They started bickering.
Soren ignored them and turned back to Sukarma.
"What about the warrior path?" he asked. "I'd like to understand it as well."
"Young Master Soren plans to train both magic and martial arts?"
She hesitated.
"Magic and warrior paths are fundamentally opposed. No one truly walks both. Some seem to, but most rely on magic items or tricks."
Soren nodded.
"In that case, just explain so I know how to counter them."
His real target was the Mana Sea, not techniques unavailable to that power source. Letting his own squads of adventurers handle the "melee" was far more efficient.
Relieved he wasn't insisting on double-training, Sukarma organized her thoughts.
"Warrior techniques—'martial skills'—can enhance the body, sharpen the mind, or alter the flow of battle. Many people call them 'a warrior's magic.'"
"Using them consumes… you could say focus, or a kind of mental stamina."
"If you chain too many together, it crushes your mind. Force a skill beyond your limit and you may burn out and die on the spot."
"Third-tier magic is for geniuses—and those who can wield four distinct martial skills in combat are also geniuses among warriors."
She couldn't quite keep the pride from her face.
Soren clapped lightly.
Under the firelight, her cheeks gained a rosy hue.
"It's late." he said. "Everyone should rest."
He rose and headed back toward the carriage.
"Not going, Captain?" the mage asked when he noticed Sukarma still sitting there.
"Most nobles take multiple wives," the thief added. "If Young Master Soren's character is decent, you could do far worse. If you let Lilinette go alone, at least consider having her there as an ally later."
"You two getting bold enough to meddle in my affairs?" she snapped.
They shut up and went back to their tents.
Sukarma stared at the gently rocking carriage.
Her jaw tightened. The firelight flickered—the shadows seemed to dance in ways her imagination gladly filled in.
"Damn it…"
She hugged her knees, muttering under her breath.
It was unclear whether she was cursing Soren, Lilinette… or both.
The moon rose, and the world sank into quiet.
Back in the Uchiha household, things were… less quiet.
On the enormous four-person bed in the main house, the "storm" had finally passed. The family lay tangled together, drifting into their usual pillow talk.
Tonight's topic veered sharply off-course.
"Darling," Kaori drawled, "why exactly did Ghost Ninja Village suddenly decide to start worshipping Uchiha Susanoo?"
"That wouldn't have anything to do with a certain charming, very suspiciously pious shrine maiden, would it?"
As the Hokage's chief secretary, Kaori had access to the freshest intel. A shrine village switching its guardian deity was one thing. Swapping to some random Uchiha god-image was another.
Her suspicion was natural.
"I swear, I've never even met the shrine maiden," Soren said smoothly. "Wrongfully accused."
He promptly looked down at Hikari, draped across his chest.
"If you don't believe me, ask Hikari. The Eight Thousand Spears mark tracks me in real time."
(So he did go picking wildflowers along the road…)
Hikari remembered perfectly well where his mark had vanished earlier that day: Ghost Ninja Village.
Now he was blinking at her like please cover for me.
This was, in her view, an excellent opportunity.
She smiled like a little cat.
"Mm. Onii-chan's mark was in Konoha all day. He never left."
"Hikari, I'll leave monitoring him to you from now on," Minori said lazily.
Unlike Kaori and Hikari, Minori had climbed through sheer grit, not shortcuts. Watching the two of them trading signals made her suspicious—but she only narrowed her eyes slightly.
"I don't want a fourth or fifth little 'sister' randomly walking into this house."
"Especially not one already pregnant."
Hikari blinked once, then raised her gaze to Soren with bright, smiling eyes.
"Onii-chan, you wouldn't be that kind of scumbag… right?"
"Absolutely not!" Soren said righteously. "I would never have secret children outside."
(Not scum—just a very responsible playboy.)
That was how he preferred to frame it.
"Good."
Minori spoke in a light tone that nonetheless made his skin prickle.
"Otherwise, I'd have to let you experience Kotoamatsukami firsthand."
"And don't go boasting about your Mangekyō, either," Soren muttered. "Like Hikari's Eight Thousand Spears, nobody outside the family needs to know."
"Relax," Minori replied. "Only family knows."
Under the weight of three very different gazes, Soren wrapped his arms more tightly around them, whispering soft words until the three Uchiha women finally drifted off to sleep.
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