Devour Sage Body.

A year had passed, and the whispers of Amatsu's name had transformed into something more. The Nameless Ghost. A title etched in blood and fear, carried by survivors who spoke in hushed voices. A shinobi without allegiance, a specter moving unseen, a force too dangerous to be ignored. His infamy had spread like a plague, stretching far beyond Amegakure's borders. Every major village had heard of him. Every major village wanted him dead.

Even after escaping Amegakure's pursuit, the hunt never ceased. The world had taken notice. They were marked. It was no longer just survival—it was war in silence.

Yet, Amatsu did not waver. He adapted, evolved, and sharpened his edge. Over the past year, he had refined Higanbana, tempered her into something more than just a companion. She was no longer a fragile child in need of protection. She had become a weapon—silent, efficient, and deadly. Second only to Ryojin in sheer capability.

But one was not enough.

Naga moved like a shadow given form, its immense body coiling through the cavern's depths without sound. The air around it pulsed with an unnatural weight, thick with the residue of Amatsu's chakra. It no longer needed to hunt; it fed directly from him, an extension of his will rather than just a beast.

When Amatsu moved, Naga followed. When he breathed, so did the serpent. Their connection had surpassed mere loyalty—its mind was now laced with his intent, its instincts honed by his cold precision.

Ryojin had tested it once, launching a wave of searing flame toward its coiled mass. The fire had licked against Naga's black scales, flickering for a breath before snuffing out entirely. Not burned. Not even scorched. The creature had turned its massive head, golden eyes meeting Ryojin's own. No rage, no reaction—only a quiet, absolute understanding.

Ryojin had laughed then, stepping back. "Guess it's not just your pet anymore."

Amatsu said nothing. He didn't need to.

Higanbana watched it all in silence, her gaze lingering on the massive serpent before shifting back to Amatsu. There was no distinction between master and beast anymore.

They were one.

"You will go to Yuki Village," Amatsu ordered, his gaze cold as he addressed Ryojin.

Ryojin grinned, eyes burning with amusement. "Recruitment? Didn't think you cared for more company."

Amatsu ignored the provocation. "Bloodline users. That's what we need."

Higanbana tilted her head slightly, understanding flickering in her crimson eyes. Over the past year, Amatsu had studied her potential—her inborn talent. He had known for a long time now. Her bloodline was not just an anomaly; it was an asset. An untapped vein of power that only needed proper direction.

And now, he sought more.

"Find one. One worth the effort," Amatsu continued. "If they resist, take them by force."

Ryojin scoffed. "And if they're weak?"

Amatsu's eyes narrowed. "Then they die."

Ryojin laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. No dead weight." His amusement never faded, but his eyes gleamed with the same hunger that drove him. "Fine. I'll bring you something worthwhile."

With that, Ryojin left, vanishing into the night. Higanbana remained.

She understood what this meant. Amatsu was preparing for something greater. He had been for a long time.

The cave was unnatural.

It was hidden, swallowed by the jagged landscape near the border of Amegakure and the Land of Fire. A place where nature itself felt violated—an abyss carved deep into the earth, untouched by time. The air was heavy, thick with something unspoken. A lingering presence of old power, of forbidden knowledge.

Within its depths, Amatsu worked.

Scrolls lay scattered, the remnants of a legacy long erased. Uzumaki sealing techniques, their symbols twisted with lost meaning. Some were damaged, incomplete. Others were intact but required unraveling—a process that demanded patience, intelligence, and an indomitable will.

He had spent a year accumulating this knowledge. Testing, breaking, and reconstructing what was once thought impossible.

Higanbana sat nearby, silent, unmoving. She did not speak. She did not interrupt. She knew what this was.

Amatsu's most critical training yet.

His fingers traced the inked formulas, his mind dissecting every curve, every structure. He understood power was not just about raw strength—it was about control. Seals, when mastered, could become something beyond simple tools of restraint. They could alter the very fabric of battle, turn limitations into advantages.

The Uzumaki knew this. And now, so did he.

He reached for a particular scroll—one that he had rewritten, corrected through countless trials. The moment he unraveled it, the cave shuddered.

Higanbana tensed, her eyes flickering in the dim light.

Chakra surged, ancient and volatile, clashing against the natural order. The symbols pulsed, shifting unnaturally, alive yet bound. A seal designed not just to contain, but to devour.

Amatsu's gaze sharpened.

This was it.

He pressed his hand against the seal, feeding it chakra, forcing it into submission. Resistance lashed back, an invisible force gnawing at his own energy, testing his will.

A moment stretched. Then, silence.

The seal stabilized. A sharp breath escaped his lips—not of exhaustion, but of confirmation.

It worked.

Higanbana watched him, her crimson eyes filled with something close to reverence. She had seen him grow, evolve beyond what even he once was. This was no longer just survival. This was creation.

---

Half Years Later

The rain fell in sheets, drumming against the caves.

Amatsu sat motionless at the heart of the cave, his breath shallow, his body already battered before the real trial had even begun. The jagged stone walls seemed to close in around him, their surfaces lined with countless sealing scripts—his own corrections, his own forbidden creation. He had pushed past the limits of Chakra Siphon. That was no longer enough. Now, he would go further.

A small wooden case sat beside him, its lid already open. Inside, two soldier pills rested in the dim light, their unnatural glow betraying their potency. These were no ordinary pills. They were refined from rare substances, meant to push a shinobi's body beyond its absolute limit. Consuming one would allow a normal man to fight for an entire day without rest. Consuming two could kill him outright.

But without them, he would never survive what came next.

His fingers tightened around the first pill. Without hesitation, he swallowed it whole. Heat erupted within his core, flooding his network, searing his flesh from the inside out. His heart pounded like a war drum. But this was only the beginning. The second pill followed. His vision blurred. His body screamed in protest. The overwhelming rush of energy felt like a blade carving through his veins.

Yet he did not falter.

Pain is weakness. To break is to be unworthy of power.

Amatsu pressed his hands together, his fingers forming the precise sequence of seals—seals he had refined, rewritten, carved into the very fabric of his mind. Blood dripped from his nose, his lips, his ears, but he ignored it. The moment he activated the technique, the cave trembled. The ancient Uzumaki markings flared, as if the past itself was resisting what he was about to do.

Naga stirred. The enormous serpent uncoiled from the depths, its crimson eyes locking onto him with something between understanding and hunger. It, too, was bound to this moment. They had already become one in mind. Now, they would become one in body.

The first pulse of the forbidden seal erupted from his chest. The pain was instant. Excruciating.

Even this... even this is not enough. I must become more.

His flesh contorted, as if something was trying to claw out from beneath his skin. The seal's energy burrowed into his very being, trying to reshape him, trying to make him something more than human. His body rejected it. He convulsed violently, his breath tearing from his lungs in a ragged gasp.

If I miscalculated, this would be my grave.

His chakra burned uncontrollably, flickering between stability and collapse. It was too much. His network was unraveling, every pathway of chakra inside him splitting, reforming, and breaking again. If he lost control now, he would become nothing but a husk, his existence erased by his own creation.

A moment of hesitation.

Then a shift.

Naga lunged.

The serpent's massive fangs sank into Amatsu's shoulder, piercing deep into his flesh. His blood poured onto the ground, sizzling as it mixed with the seals beneath him. But he did not resist. He could not. Naga was not attacking him—it was stabilizing him.

Survival is not enough. Mastery is not enough. I will take everything.

The exchange had begun.

Amatsu fed Naga his chakra in a steady, relentless stream. In return, the serpent channeled its own—the natural energy it had absorbed, refined, purified beyond human capability. Their bond tightened to something beyond partnership. Beyond even dominance.

They were no longer separate entities.

They were one.

The pain did not subside. It escalated. His skin split apart, only to regenerate moments later, stronger, more unnatural. His bones lengthened, twisted, realigned. His body was being reshaped, molded by the seals he had branded into himself.

Every second was agony. Every breath was war.

Nights blurred into days. The cave became his tomb. His training, a ritual of suffering.

He vomited blood until there was nothing left to expel. His muscles rotted, reformed, then rotted again. His chakra twisted in on itself, imploding and rebuilding in an endless, torturous cycle.

He lost count of how many times he almost died.

Each night, his consciousness flickered, teetering on the edge of the abyss. Every fiber of his being screamed for it to stop. But he endured. He did not have the luxury of failure.

And then, the final moment arrived.

Amatsu knelt at the center of the cave, his hands pressed to the stone floor, his body wrecked beyond recognition. His breath was shallow, ragged. The last seal—his true creation—was the only thing left.

One final attempt.

One success.

His fingers moved. The last symbols formed in the air before him, written in the blood he had shed. The cave shuddered violently. The very air was consumed by his chakra, drawn into him like a black hole swallowing light.

His body convulsed. His network imploded. The seal branded itself into his soul.

This is the price. This is the path. And I will walk it to the end.

A scream—one of agony, one of triumph.

Then silence.

The cave went still.

Amatsu's body had changed. Permanently.

His dark eyes had turned into dead crimson orbs, vast and unreadable, their depths swallowing the light. His black hair no longer looked natural—it moved, as if the shadows themselves clung to him, shifting, distorting reality around his form.

His height had exploded—an 12-year-old no longer. His body had been forced into unnatural growth, now standing at 178 cm, lean but hardened like tempered steel. His once-pale skin bore new markings—a serpent's head etched into his forehead, appearing as if devouring its own tail. A half-body tattoo, dark and writhing like a living entity, coiled across his frame.

He exhaled.

The cave trembled—not from sound, but from something deeper. The air refused to settle around him, distorting like heat over an open flame. His shadow stretched unnaturally, swallowing the dim light.

A new entity had been born.

Higanbana stood frozen, her small frame barely illuminated by the flickering embers of dying torches. The air had thickened, pressing against her skin with an unnatural weight. The cave no longer felt like a place of stone and earth—it was something else now, something reshaped by his presence.

Her crimson eyes, wide and unblinking, traced his form. He had changed. Not just in body, but in something more profound. Something she could not name.

Higanbana had always followed him, believed in him. But now, standing before what he had become, she felt the stirrings of something unfamiliar—an emotion that was neither fear nor awe, but an unsettling fusion of both. For the first time, she wondered if she still understood him.

The thought was fleeting, drowned beneath the quiet reverence that still lingered within her. No matter what he became, she would follow.

Amatsu turned, and the cave felt smaller beneath his presence.

She knew with absolute certainty that the man before her was no longer the same.

Amatsu what you've become...

He had succeeded.

From now on, Naga no longer existed separately. The serpent now dwelled within him, its form waiting in the abyss of his chakra until summoned. Their connection had surpassed the limits of summoning, of companionship. It had become something far more terrifying.

The seal had been completed. The transformation finalized.

This was no longer just a technique.

It was a new state of existence.

The Devouring Sage Body had been born.

Amatsu flexed his fingers. The motion felt foreign, his body no longer bound by the same limitations. Strength coursed through him, unfamiliar yet absolute. He could feel it in every fiber of his being—the shift, the irreversible transformation. His old self had perished here, buried beneath blood and suffering. What had emerged in its place was something else entirely.

A slow exhale. The air trembled. The cave walls bore witness.

He raised his hand. Chakra pooled at his fingertips, formless yet suffocating. It did not flicker or waver. It obeyed.

Perfect.

He clenched his fist, and the shadows around him convulsed in response.

His thoughts were sharp, precise. The Devouring Sage Body… This is not a technique. It is rebirth.

He had transcended the fragile balance of man and beast, master and summon. There was no distinction anymore. Naga existed within him, its essence woven into his very core. The serpent had not been tamed—it had been consumed.

His gaze lifted to Higanbana. She had not spoken a word. Yet in her crimson eyes, he saw understanding. Not fear. Not admiration. Understanding.

She would never need to ask if he had succeeded. The answer was in the air itself, thick with something primal, something beyond words.

Amatsu finally spoke, his voice low, even, yet carrying the weight of finality.

"It is done."

The words were unnecessary, but they were a declaration nonetheless.

Higanbana lowered her head slightly, a silent acknowledgment.

Outside, the rain continued to fall. The world had not stopped for his evolution. The hunt had not ceased. His enemies still roamed beyond this cavern, oblivious to the inevitability that had just been forged in the depths of the earth.

Good.

Amatsu took a slow step forward, and the ground beneath him seemed to yield, as if recognizing something beyond its comprehension.

This is not the end.

His eyes burned, a dull glow hidden beneath the abyss of his irises.

This is only the beginning.

-

A/N: Drop the reviews and insight how the novel so far. Enjoy the read Friend.

Also my bad about the bad execution of the trios in early chaps.