Naruto sat comfortably in his grand office within the imperial palace, the heart of his vast empire. The island of Uzu was where everything came together, a symbol of both power and peace. His empire spanned galaxies, a utopia where his people thrived, and yet his thoughts drifted back to simpler times. He sat back in his plush chair, the golden rays of the sun filtering through the large windows that overlooked the expansive ocean beyond the island's cliffs.
The throne room was nearby, where he occasionally met visitors, but today was different. The laughter and chatter from outside the palace walls were distant sounds to him, lost in his own world of thoughts.
Artoria, his loyal and strong Empress, was beside him. She often stood by his side during these quiet moments, offering her counsel or simply being present. Their bond was unshakeable, and Naruto felt an immense sense of gratitude for the family he had built—though his empire's responsibilities never truly allowed him to rest.
"I suppose it's nice to be appreciated. He sounds like a good kid," Naruto said with a smile, his voice tinged with nostalgia. He was thinking of Izuku, a young man who had started down a path of self-improvement after their brief exchange. "Reminds me of Lee and Metal."
Artoria glanced at him, her piercing eyes softening for a moment. She could sense the longing in Naruto's tone, the quiet reflection on days gone by. Lee, a long-time friend of Naruto, had become a herald—a title for those who served him in ways that few could ever comprehend. Lee had traveled the universe, spreading Naruto's influence and ideals, while his son Metal, though young, had taken on the mantle of a true warrior.
Naruto's thoughts lingered on his past students—those who had once looked up to him for guidance and now stood as leaders in their own right. It was a bittersweet thought. He had trained them, but now they had all outgrown their need for him. His children, too, were no longer the small faces that had once called him father. They were powerful, seasoned warriors—each with their own purpose, their own legacy to fulfill.
"I can't remember the last time I had a real student," Naruto continued, his smile bittersweet as his eyes wandered toward the horizon. "They've all grown so much… even my kids have matured into proper heralds. It's hard to believe sometimes. Especially with the kind of power they wield."
Artoria, ever perceptive, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You've done well, Naruto. They've become strong because of you."
Naruto nodded, but a flicker of concern crossed his face. There was one lingering issue that had been on his mind. He didn't want to think about it too much, but the problem had grown too large to ignore.
"Shuten…" Naruto muttered under his breath, a faint irritation creeping into his voice.
Artoria raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight behind the name. "Still troublesome?"
Naruto sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. "She's become more than just a problem. She's obsessed with me. It's unhealthy. Last time I ignored it, she nearly brainwashed an alternate version of me—tried to change my real past, if it were possible. Thankfully, I blocked all pathways to the past for time travelers."
Artoria's lips tightened into a thin line, concern flashing in her eyes. "And what will you do about it now?"
"I need to confront her before things get worse. She's... unpredictable," Naruto said with a sigh. "But I can't be bothered to deal with it myself today. You know how I am when I get bored with something."
He grinned, his mischievous smile returning, though it held a touch of seriousness beneath it. "Mirai, can you call Shuten for me?" he asked, his voice casual but commanding.
Mirai, one of his loyal imperial guards, had earned a reputation for her ruthlessness, especially when it came to dealing with problems that Naruto couldn't be bothered to address himself. She was quick, efficient, and a little terrifying to anyone who didn't know her well.
Mirai appeared in the doorway a moment later, her sharp eyes already assessing the situation. She was quick to catch on, her gaze flickering to Naruto's smirk.
"Of course, Your Majesty," Mirai said, rolling her eyes inwardly. She couldn't help but feel frustrated at how Naruto treated them—his guards—like his own personal toys. But at the same time, she couldn't help but respect the Emperor. His power was unmatched, and though she often resented being put in such menial roles, she had no choice but to comply.
She sighed heavily before walking out of the office, muttering under her breath about how the Emperor had turned them into children, constantly needing to be watched over and protected.
'Guards, bah,' Mirai thought to herself as she made her way toward Shuten's palace. 'Why does he need me to do everything for him?'
Shuten, the daughter of Kaguya, had always been a bit of a loose cannon. Her obsession with Naruto had been troubling from the very beginning, and while he had done his best to keep her in check, there were times when he worried that her fixation might spiral out of control.
Ichigo Kurosaki, a 17-year-old with bright, spiky orange hair and an unmissable presence, was lounging in his room with a manga in hand. He was engrossed in Hajime no Ippo, his favorite boxing manga, when he was interrupted by a sudden barrage of notifications from his phone. The constant buzz was enough to pull him out of his relaxation and back into the real world.
"Who the f**k is spamming me?" Ichigo grumbled, irritated. He had been lying on his bed, half asleep, when the influx of notifications struck like an avalanche. Grumbling under his breath, he swiped his phone up, eager to get back to his manga, but that plan quickly evaporated as his eyes widened in surprise at what he saw on the screen.
His phone screen was filled with group messages, and a few of them were already cluttered with long texts. At first, Ichigo figured it was some scammer that had somehow gotten a hold of his number.
"Ugh, damn scammers these days..." Ichigo muttered, already ready to exit the group and go back to his manga. But something stopped him. His fingers hovered over the "Leave Group" button as he took a closer look at the messages flooding in.
The more he scrolled through, the more his confusion grew. The text was unlike anything he'd seen in a typical group chat. It wasn't just a bunch of random nonsense—this was structured. Professional, even. The messages were filled with details about fitness routines, combat training techniques, and exercises that would challenge even the most seasoned athletes.
Ichigo wasn't just any casual reader; he was a hardcore fan of fighting. He had spent countless hours reading through manuals and researching different combat sports, from Karate to Judo to MMA. As he read through the messages, he could tell that the instructions were on another level, far beyond what any free resource would offer.
"Who the hell is this Lord Emperor of Mankind?" Ichigo muttered aloud. He scratched his head, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. This was clearly no ordinary person, and the training schedules were too professional to be anything other than the work of someone who had mastered the art of combat themselves. The detailed poses and stances were accurate and well thought out, though Ichigo did notice a few moves he didn't recognize. They seemed to come from a different set of fighting styles, possibly even made up by the person behind the name.
Ichigo's heart raced with curiosity. He had read about fighters from all around the world, and the Emperor's approach reminded him of some of the top European martial artists he had studied, but with a distinct style that he couldn't quite place. "Is this guy really a professional fighter? He sounds like one. I haven't seen him anywhere, though. Did he add me by mistake?"
His thoughts raced. Ichigo wasn't one to sit idly by when it came to fighting. If there was someone this knowledgeable about combat out there, he wanted to meet them, learn from them, and get some tips that might elevate his own skills.
"Can I really talk to him?" Ichigo thought. "Maybe we can meet up and talk about it in person. He can show me some moves."
Ichigo wasn't quick to believe things just because they sounded good, but what he had just read had his respect. He knew that the real masters didn't give away their secrets for free. The idea of receiving step-by-step training from such an experienced figure seemed too good to be true.
However, there was one catch. Ichigo didn't speak English fluently. He could understand basic phrases, but there was no way he could carry on an entire conversation in the language. He groaned slightly at the thought. "Damn it, how the hell am I supposed to find this guy if I don't even know the language?"
He sighed, running a hand through his messy orange hair. "Guess I'll have to check on the European fighters," he muttered. "He might be one of them." The thought lingered, but he was still unsure about the authenticity of this mysterious figure.
He glanced at the time on his phone. It was already 11 PM, and he had school the next day. "I'll try talking to him tomorrow," Ichigo decided. "I'm too tired right now."
Plopping his phone down on his bed, Ichigo pulled the blanket over himself and settled in for the night. As sleep began to take over, his thoughts drifted back to the messages, imagining what it might be like to learn from someone like this "Emperor of Mankind." Tomorrow, he thought, he would reach out and see if he could get more answers.
For now, though, it would have to wait. The excitement of what he had just read would have to be tempered by the mundane reality of school in the morning. But even then, the curiosity burned brightly in his mind—who was this mysterious figure, and how had he come to be such an expert?
Issei Hyoudou sat in his room, a light hum of the air conditioner filling the quiet as he leaned back against his chair, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. His face was a mix of focus and glee as he enjoyed the latest anime, letting the stories of heroes and mischief wash over him. But that peace didn't last long.
A barrage of notifications suddenly erupted from his phone, breaking his concentration. The sound of multiple pings filled the room, each one more annoying than the last. His eyes snapped to the screen in irritation, a scowl forming on his face as his finger hovered over the screen.
"Bloody shit, I will murder the bastard," Issei grumbled under his breath, his usual jovial demeanor giving way to frustration. He was in the middle of his daily ritual, after all. How dare anyone disturb him now?
With a quick swipe, he opened the notification to see what was going on. The first thing that caught his eye was the name of the group: Heroes Chat Group. For a brief second, he thought it was some sort of mix-up. He wasn't exactly the hero type. In fact, he was better known for his perverted tendencies than anything else.
Issei was of average height, with short spiky brown hair that framed his light brown eyes. Despite being in high school, he wasn't the academic type nor particularly athletic. But what he lacked in traditional skills, he made up for in sheer persistence when it came to his passions. His nickname, Dragon King, was a testament to his obsession with all things perverted and his somewhat legendary antics in the realm of harem dreams.
He skimmed through the names in the chat, noting how many were unfamiliar. But what caught his attention immediately were the girls. His eyes widened slightly, and an almost mischievous grin spread across his face. These were no ordinary girls; these were, as far as he could tell, the hottest women he'd ever seen, with profiles that screamed confidence and beauty. Some were even flashing teasing looks in their photos—somehow managing to seem both innocent and seductive at once.
"Hell yeah," Issei muttered to himself with a sly grin, feeling a surge of excitement. The temptation to leave the group was strong, especially considering he had no idea how he'd been added in the first place. But then, as he glanced once more at the names, he realized he might have stumbled upon something much more entertaining than his usual late-night anime binge.
"I think I'll stick around for a while, for research purposes," Issei said aloud, his grin widening as he leaned back in his chair. He decided against leaving the group and instead opened up the messages. Curiosity piqued, he began scrolling through the chat, intrigued by the mysterious nature of this "Emperor of Mankind" that everyone seemed to be talking about. A quick glance at the messages made it clear this wasn't just some random conversation.
This was something… special. Something that was far beyond what he expected.
But what really caught Issei's eye was the mention of physical training—something that resonated with his own desire to become stronger, even if it was purely for the sake of impressing women. He couldn't ignore the idea that maybe, just maybe, if he stuck around, there could be something in it for him. A chance to learn, to grow, and, more importantly, to indulge his more selfish desires.
He let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as he scrolled through more of the detailed messages. The person behind the "Emperor of Mankind" certainly knew how to make things sound enticing, and Issei couldn't help but feel an inkling of excitement bubbling up inside him.
Maybe this was exactly the kind of distraction he needed—a mix of adventure, strength, and a few beautiful women along the way. His thoughts drifted to the many beautiful women he'd met in his life, wondering if one of them might be a part of this mysterious new group. The thrill of the unknown, coupled with the irresistible allure of these gorgeous women, was more than enough to keep Issei glued to the screen.
"Well, if this Emperor guy wants to teach me something," Issei mumbled with a smirk, "I'll be the best student he's ever had."
And with that, he leaned back, ready to see where this unexpected journey would take him.