After Orochimaru's various attempts to subtly indoctrinate Akira with his usual manipulative techniques, it became abundantly clear that Akira was not swayed in the slightest. Orochimaru tried every psychological angle, laying philosophical traps and posing rhetorical questions meant to spark curiosity or doubt. But Akira, already wise beyond his years and emotionally resilient, was immune to such subtle coercion. His mental defenses, sharpened through countless trials, remained unshaken.
With time, Orochimaru gradually realized the truth: his disciple's ideals were fundamentally different from his own. Unlike Orochimaru, who saw the world as a battlefield of power and experimentation, Akira sought strength to protect, not to control. This dissonance between master and student led Orochimaru to quietly abandon his initial plan of grooming Akira as his heir.
The legendary Sannin's thoughts turned toward finding a new assistant, one who might better align with his ambitions. He had once considered Hongdou, a young girl with a measure of potential, but after witnessing Akira's genius and prodigious growth, Orochimaru found her talents lacking in comparison.
Then another name came to mind: the sharp-eyed orphan from the Land of Wind, adopted by the kind-hearted nun Nono Yu. "Yakushi Kabuto," Orochimaru murmured to himself. "He may be... adequate."
Meanwhile, Akira had sensed something shift in Orochimaru. He'd noticed the faint glimmer in the older man's eyes when he spoke of the Sharingan. That particular gleam, subtle but distinct, had not gone unnoticed. Akira knew Orochimaru too well. While his tone remained unchanged, casual and even gentle, there was a new hunger hiding beneath the surface.
He kept watch in secret, noting every nuance, every lingering glance. Orochimaru's gaze, just for a moment, had lingered too long on Akira's eyes, like a starving man observing a feast. Though Orochimaru quickly looked away, the intent was already etched into Akira's memory.
"Is he... coveting my Sharingan?" Akira thought, inwardly tensing. "Or am I being too paranoid?"
But even if this was only a seedling of interest, Akira knew it could bloom into something far more dangerous. Orochimaru's fascination with bloodline limits was well known. It was only a matter of time before his curiosity transformed into obsession. Akira made a silent vow: he would not be caught off guard.
Meanwhile, far from Konoha, the puppet clone fashioned in the likeness of Sasori the Scorpion hovered quietly above a remote desert village near the Land of Wind's border. Akira had continued his surveillance through this puppet, following He Yan and his returning caravan. The group had recently completed a successful trade expedition and returned to their modest village for rest.
Akira planned to extract critical information about the location of the Gral mineral vein from He Yan. However, the puppet clone lacked one vital component: the Sharingan. Though Akira had mastered many of Uchiha Kagami's illusion techniques, most of them required the unique visual prowess of the Sharingan to be fully effective. Without his chakra or dojutsu, the puppet could not reliably cast illusions strong enough to control He Yan.
And while He Yan appeared to be a simple merchant, Akira knew better than to underestimate someone entrusted with guarding the Gral's greatest secret. Resistance to illusion often came not from power, but from sheer will.
Failure now would alert He Yan, and then even Akira's main body might find it difficult to obtain the truth. Patience was paramount. He would act when he himself could intervene directly.
Two days later, Akira quietly returned to Konoha. That night, under the cover of stars and shadows, he activated the Flying Thunder God seal he'd placed on the puppet Scorpion and transported himself back to the village.
He Yan's caravan had remained dormant since their return, confirming that the trade route was indeed complete. Akira watched from the rooftops, the moonlight brushing against his silver hair. When all was silent, he moved like a whisper into He Yan's home.
As expected, He Yan slept soundly. But a pair of sharp eyes suddenly met Akira's. A cat—slender, regal, and suspicious—stared at him with narrowed pupils. It was Nilu Gu, the mystical feline companion of the lost Gral royal family.
Akira's Sharingan activated with a gleam. In an instant, Nilu Gu's resistance crumbled as the crimson whirl of his eyes drew the creature into a passive trance.
He stepped closer to He Yan, whose breathing remained slow and steady. With great care, Akira lifted the man's eyelids. The spiraling kaleidoscope of his Mangekyō Sharingan flared to life, bathing the room in a faint, unearthly glow.
Unlike the standard Sharingan, the Mangekyō did not require mutual gaze to ensnare its victim. A mere glimpse was enough.
He Yan stirred slightly in bed, then blinked his eyes open. At first, he only noticed the open door and the absence of his cat. Panic set in as he sat up.
"Nilu Gu? Where did you go?" he muttered. The thought of losing the feline—one of the last living remnants of his shattered homeland—spurred him into action.
As he exited the house in search, he called out into the night. Curiously, his voice echoed without reply. No lights turned on. No neighbors stirred. The entire village seemed suspended in unnatural stillness.
"Strange," he whispered, frowning.
Suddenly, the meow of his cat reached his ears. With relief washing over him, He Yan turned toward the sound. There, under the pale moonlight, stood a young blond boy wearing ceremonial armor of a style long forgotten. Cradled in his arms, Nilu Gu purred contentedly.
He Yan's eyes widened. That armor—the insignia on the chestplate—he had seen it only in history books and heirlooms.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice hushed and reverent.
The boy stepped forward, voice calm and regal. "You are the guardian of the mineral vein, yes? I am Tim West, heir to the royal Gral bloodline. I've returned from across the ocean to protect our legacy."
With that, the boy opened his chest armor and revealed a radiant Gral Stone embedded in his sternum. The energy it radiated struck He Yan like an emotional tide. It was real. Undeniable. That energy—warm, harmonious, and ancient—was the same as the shard he had safeguarded all these years.
Caught in the sway of the illusion, his doubt evaporated. The boy's presence, the authenticity of the Gral Stone, the familiar warmth of Nilu Gu's purr—it was all too vivid to question.
"There is a tyrant named Hyde," Tim West continued. "He intends to exploit our sacred vein and harness it to raise an army. He must be stopped. But we are too weak to oppose him directly. The only way to deny him this power is to destroy the source."
"You... you mean the mineral vein?" He Yan asked, heart pounding.
"Yes. Only those of royal descent can open the seal and cast it into the Space-Time Hole, where it can never be misused. We must act before Hyde arrives. There is no time."
Overwhelmed by a sense of duty and awe, He Yan nodded, his voice choked. "Follow me... I'll take you there."
He led the illusionary royal youth through the desert outskirts to the ancient ruins of the Gral Palace, long buried by time and sand. Beneath the palace lay the entrance to the Gral mineral vein, a secret guarded for generations.
And all the while, the real Akira stood in the shadows nearby, watching the scene unfold. His Sharingan spun gently as the illusion played out perfectly, the fabricated identity of Tim West fooling even the cautious and loyal He Yan.
As they reached the sealed entrance, Akira allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
The key had been turned. The path to the Gral mineral vein was now open.
And no one but him knew the truth.
Under the guidance of Akira's powerful illusion, He Yan unknowingly opened the deepest recesses of his memory. Like gently parting curtains in a dream, Akira steered He Yan through his own mind, pulling forth a clear vision of the long-hidden Gelel Ore Vein's location.
Although Akira had never traveled to the Land of Rivers and was unfamiliar with its geography, the memories etched into He Yan's mind gave him everything he needed. Through the illusion, Akira watched flickers of memory—sun-scorched canyons, ancient broken roads, and forgotten stone markers—as He Yan mentally retraced the journey to the lost ruins of the Gelel Empire. These were not figments of Akira's illusionary spell, but genuine recollections formed through lived experience. The illusion merely served as a guide; the vivid imagery was supplied by He Yan's own consciousness.
As He Yan drifted deeper into the illusion, Akira felt his thoughts like whispered echoes. Among them, a stray memory caught Akira's attention—a small Gelel Stone fragment, hidden in an unexpected place. It was embedded within Nilg, He Yan's cat. That tiny piece of crystal had been sustaining Nilg's unnaturally long life, subtly warping its body and giving its eyes an unnatural red hue.
When Akira carefully extracted the shard from Nilg's body, its eyes shifted from crimson to a gentle green—their true color before the influence of the Gelel energy. It reminded him of Temujin, whose transformation in the legends had occurred under similar circumstances. The phenomenon also unraveled a myth: the notion that only those of royal blood could bond with the Gelel Stone was clearly false.
The truth was more nuanced.
The Gelel Stone had not been born bonded to bloodlines. It was merely a powerful crystal formed through the manipulation of the Gelel Ore Vein's energy. The royal family, in its desperation to maintain control, had likely embedded a technique—a seal or combination lock—into the stones, allowing only authorized users to access their power. Nilg had likely been bonded to the stone as a trusted companion, perhaps even as a relic of the lost royal court.
Moreover, Akira recalled the three women who followed the warlord Haido. They had wielded the Gelel Stone's power despite not possessing royal blood. This meant that the restriction wasn't absolute—it could be bypassed, broken, or simply overwhelmed with the right technique.
Cradling the fragment in his palm, Akira studied it with his Sharingan, peering into the energy within. The chakra inside shimmered golden-orange, warm and radiant like morning sunlight. The sensation was oddly familiar. He sifted through his memories, seeking the source of that recognition—then it struck him.
Tsunade-sensei.
The necklace she wore, a relic created by the First Hokage, held a similar type of chakra crystal. That crystal had been formed from pure Yang Release chakra—vitality, regeneration, life-force itself. Just like the Gelel Stone.
In other words, the Gelel energy was most likely a form of condensed Yang Release chakra.
Its effects aligned perfectly: rapid regeneration, enhanced physical transformations, even amplifying hidden talents like elemental release or genjutsu potential. Temujin's lightning manipulation and the knightesses' unique abilities all made sense in this light—they were not gifts of the stone, but traits awakened by it.
Akira returned the fragment gently to Nilg's body. He didn't wish to cause it harm, nor raise suspicion. He Yan, after all, still believed everything was just a dream. If he discovered the stone missing, he might become wary, even act to destroy the ore vein. Akira couldn't allow that risk.
More importantly, despite all he had learned, Akira still believed in mercy. It would have been easy to silence He Yan, to wipe away any risk of exposure. But Akira wasn't Orochimaru. He would not stain his path with blood unless he had no choice.
He had also confirmed a crucial truth: the Gelel Stone's energy was chakra—pure, radiant chakra. And his Susanoo, inherited through two powerful Uchiha bloodlines, could absorb it. Uchiha Nan's Susanoo alone rivaled Kaguya's destructive strength. With both of his Susanoo forms—his and Nan's—Akira believed he could even suppress the full power of the Nine-Tails.
The Gelel Ore Vein was vast, yes. But it could not exceed the force of two perfect Susanoo. Akira was ready.
He released the illusion and vanished into the night, his chakra signature fading from the air just as He Yan stirred.
He Yan sat up in bed, groggy and disoriented. A dull ache throbbed in his head, like the remnants of a dream slipping through his fingers. He remembered... a boy? Blonde? Armor? No—it was already gone.
When he looked down, he saw Nilg staring fixedly at the open window, fur bristled, pupils like slits.
"Nilg...? Did you have a nightmare too?" he murmured, scooping up the cat and stroking its fur gently. "Don't worry. I'm here."
The cat trembled a little but gradually relaxed in his arms.
Elsewhere, miles away, Akira arrived at the edge of a remote valley.
Mountains loomed all around, towering jaggedly into the misty sky. Nestled among them, veiled by time and silence, lay the forgotten ruins of the Gelel Empire.
This was the place He Yan had imagined in his illusion—though reality was less pristine. The stone arches were crumbling, moss-covered, choked with vines. What had once been a gate was now a jagged wound in the mountainside.
Akira stepped forward.
He descended into darkness, the passage narrow and winding. Every step echoed with history. Carvings of ancient heroes and beasts, broken relics of a civilization long buried, lined the walls. The deeper he went, the more the air shimmered with dormant chakra.
Finally, he reached a massive underground hall—collapsed in parts, but still awe-inspiring.
Three circular stone pillars stood embedded in the floor, etched with spiraling patterns.
Akira narrowed his eyes. These weren't mere supports. He could feel it: chakra pulsed faintly through them.
He stepped onto the first pillar and placed his hand on the seal etched in its center.
The ancient elevator mechanism rumbled faintly, and Akira felt the pulse of energy beneath his feet quicken.
He was close. So very close.
Soon, the true power of the Gelel Ore Vein would be within his grasp—and Akira intended to master it, not for war or domination, but for the storm to come.
Because something darker was stirring beyond the horizon.
And he would need every ounce of power to stop it.